Nameless (A Court of Mist and Fury and Throne of Glass)
by RowaelinHerondale
Summary: RowaelinFeyrhys Ships: Rowaelin and Feysand/Feyrhys . SET AFTER EoS and ACOMAF (AMAZING COVER ART BY: CHARLIE BOWATER)
1. Pride VS Sense

**EMPIRE OF STORMS SPOILERS (YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)**

Feyre had no idea what was happening. One moment she was sitting next to Tamlin focusing on keeping his hand off her thigh, not bothering with his and Lucien's small talk. Who, by the way, kept throwing suspicious glances at her. Then out of nowhere, a broken bleeding girl slammed onto the hard table. All three of the jumped back, Tamlin's arm braced in front of her.

Feyre's heartbeat slowed as she deciphered her, at first glance Feyre thought the woman was wearing a crimson shirt, but as she scented her, she realised it was blood that completely coated her skin. The woman shifted slightly exposing her bare back to them, it was horrific, the skin looked liked it had been torn from her back, leaving only meat and exposed bone. As Feyre fought past her shock and looked closer, she noticed the purple welts and red burns covering the girl's body, along with the bones that jutted out from odd angles.

"Who are you?", Tamlin demanded, breaking the horrified silence. Through her own horror, Feyre could have sworn the shuddering woman had attempted to flip him off.

"Who are you?", he demanded again. Here was a girl would had obviously been dragged through hell, and Tamlin was demanding she give her name, like that was more important than her getting some medical treatment.

Tamlin opened his big mouth again but before he could get far the woman muttered turning toward him, her turquoise eyes finally focusing, "I've been locked in an iron box for god knows how long, so respectfully, I would appreciate if you would piss off." Her voice was raspy and barely audible, but in no way weak. The woman's face was gaunt, her eyes sunken, her face marred with scars including two savage lines down each of her cheekbones.

She already liked this girl. Tamlin was dumbstruck, before he could open his mouth again, Feyre hurried over to the girl. She wasn't sure what to do, she had never seen something this bad. After frantically looking over the woman, there seemed to be no place that Feyre could touch her that wasn't an open wound.

"Get the healers!" she shouted.

Lucien nodded and ran from the dining room. Feyre reached towards the woman, who was back to her original position,on her knees, head hung low, hands braced in front of her, her shoulders rising and falling in labored breath, as if to keep herself from screaming out. She glanced at Tamlin, who was standing uncomfortably close to Feyre, grinding his teeth and shooting daggers at the poor girl.

Aelin was in agony, and every moment was a struggle not to show it. It was either screaming or blacking out, and she was desperate to stay in the middle of those two options. Too prideful to scream, too aware of how vulnerable she would be, unconscious in a stranger's land. But when the wine haired male returned with three healers, who started prodding and poking her wounds, however gently they were trying to be, she chose her pride over commonsense, surrendering to the black abyss.

 **Dun Dun DUN! So First Chapter.. ¯\\_(** **ツ** **)_/¯ BTW this is set right after the events in EoS.**


	2. Fear VS Hope

Rowan hadn't really slept for the last month, he couldn't. Not without his fireheart. His carranam, his queen, his wife. His mate. He swallowed against a wave of self hatred, his mate, how had he been stupid enough not realise? Ever since it had been revealed, the bond was like a jagged nail that dug into his heart at the slightest thought of Aelin. He had allowed her to carry yet another burden, on those already weighed down shoulders, because of his own denial.

As a result of Rowan's constant restlessness, he had become accustomed to spending his nights in hawk form, surrendering to its animal instincts. Though it did little to lessen the gaping hole in his chest, and the constant stabbing of his heart, for Aelin was woven into his soul, not his mind, it lessened it. He was currently perched on a branch, overlooking the camp in a small clearing of the forest. Rowan couldn't bare to think of what may be happening to Aelin, right now, while he sat on this branch. And did nothing. They had been searching for two months and six days and two hours, and had nothing.

He was shaken from his thoughts, when his hawk eyes caught a flash of moon white between trees. He scented the air: _Fenrys_. His pulse jumped to life, he cawed, low and beckoning. The wolf, his fur stark in contrast to the dark forest, stalked out from a nearby bush, eyes on Rowan.

Rowan had no patience for caution as he swooped down by the wolf, shifting to his fae form before landing soundlessly on the leaf coated ground. Fenrys followed suit. The ice prince tried not to wince has the full force of his wounded soul hit him, no longer clouded by the Hawk's mind.

He wasted no time, _"Where is she?",_ Rowan growled, not bothering to hide his desperation. He looked the fae over once noting the male's damp ruffled hair and sluggish movement.

Fenrys opened his mouth before closing and opening it again.

Rowan pushed down the horrible thoughts of what had happened to render _Fenrys,_ the male with often far too many words, speechless.

 _"Where. Is. She?"_ Rowan repeated, ice coated hands curling into fists.

Fenrys spoke in a near trembling voice right before Rowan was going to punch him, "I- She was taken to a- a place," When Rowan growled he added with desperation, "I don't know where, Maeve wouldn't even tell me. The bitch brought me with her to this- _place_... ", he trailed off, noticing Rowan's impatience "long story short, Aelin isn't there anymore."

 _"What?"_ Rowan barked, not knowing if he should to fear or hope, and struggling not to give in to either.

"Once, I was told to return Aelin to her- _her box_ , alone, _Cairn_ " Fenrys growled the name, "was busy. " Fenrys was no longer looking at Rowan's eyes, more staring at the mud, "That night, I lingered at her cell- just in case Cairn came. I heard her chanting something. There was a flash of purple light. I was worried, so I opened the box back up," The twin let a long breath out, "she was gone."

Rowan stood in silence.

"No one could have taken her out- and she couldn't have gotten out, I was there the whole time. But Aelin was gone. On the door there were these symbols drawn in blood, her own blood."

Rowan's eyes widened, _Wyrdmarks_ , Aelin had escaped with Wyrdmarks.

Fenrys reached into his pocket, and Rowan couldn't help but be hopeful. If he had the symbols and the spell, he could find her, or at least know how she got out.

"I copied the symbols down, and wrote what I could remember of her chanting. When I was done I smeared them." Fenrys handed him two neatly folded slips of paper, and Rowan took them like they were the most precious things in the world. They were a glimmer of hope of getting his wife back. He was afraid that if he breathed Fenrys and the papers would turn to ash, and he would jolt awake, finding nothing but the forest around him and no queen beside him. Now days his dreams enjoyed doing things like that.

"Thank you." Rowan said, his voice hoarse, attempting to gulp down the lump in his throat, "Thank you."

Fenrys gave him a grim smile, before looking down at the ground again, mumbling, "Get her back, Whitethorn.", clasping Rowan on the shoulder and giving him a firm shake.

Rowan attempted a smile but failed, instead asking, "How did you get away?" He knew Maeve wouldn't have willingly let him stray this far from her reach.

Fenrys grimaced and shrugged, not looking up from the ground, "When she found out that Aelin had escaped, she was pissed. I've never seen her so livid." He paused before continuing, "So pissed, she gave our leashes some slack, she didn't notice when I slipped away, didn't think to question me."

Rowan thought for a moment before saying, "Then stay here, you can help us find her. Maeve won't be able to call you back unless she hunts you down."

The Wolf finally looked up, his eyes darkening, his throat bobbing, "No. She still has my brother, I'm not leaving my twin with that bitch.", he said shaking his head.

Rowan nodded once. He had already known his answer. But if- when, when Maeve discovered what Fenrys had ran away to do, it would be the ultimate betrayal. The twins would pay dearly, Rowan knew that, and so did Fenrys.

Fenrys said nothing more, before shifting back to his wolf form.

After Fenrys had bounded into the forest, Rowan waited to see if anyone had followed him before unfolding the papers. One was a large drawing that contained a cluster of wyrdmarks, none of which he recalled, in a circular formation. The other held a jumble of words, spelt phonetically along with helpful dashes that marked where a word was missing. A total of eight words were absent.

As Rowan Whitethorn consort of Aelin Galathynius read over the papers until they were burned into his mind, until he could hear Aelin's voice saying them, he gave into his hope completely. And though he still didn't sleep that night, he didn't feel the need to shift into his hawk form.

 **Though I am not too happy with this chapter, I hoped you enjoyed it! If you ever have any suggestions for where this fanfic should go tell me!**


	3. You Mortals

Aelin slipped back into consciousness for the fifth time that morning- or at least she thought it was morning, she hadn't dared opened her eyes, not willing to face whatever consequences awaited her, there always were consequences. It seemed like every twitch she made had a ripple effect, and ended getting someone brutally murdered, Aelin thought bitterly.

She laid there, watching the backs of her eyes, trying to reemerge herself in her dreamless sleep. Aelin begrudgingly realised that though her body was still sore, she wasn't on the edge of screaming. She also noted the soft mattress beneath her and the silky blanket that had been thrown over her, and the pleasant scent of flowers. So different to the cell where she had been kept- no. She would not think of that place. Not now, not here, where she had to keep her wits about her. So she shoved those thoughts in the iron chest in her mind, and locked them away along with all the other thoughts she could not consider if she wished to function.

Without the pain that clouded her senses, she could not dismiss the gaping hole in her chest, in her mind she smiled grimly, Rowan. As she laid there, the hole began to swallow her. Questions of if they would ever see each other again, and if so how long would she have with him. How much more time could she borrow. She locked those questions away too. _Coward,_ they whispered as she did so.

The time had come for her to be Aelin Ashryver Galathynius again, to continue down the road that would rattle the stars. So she took in a deep breath, and reluctantly opened her eyes.

Sun rays lit up the lavish room where she slept, Aelin sat up and took a moment to stare out the window. So green and lively, she had never seen anything like it, so ideal... it was sickening. Sickening that there could be places like this when there places where the walls were painted in blood and screams echoed through the streets. She grimaced at the lacey sheets and pastel blue silk nightgown she had been put in. Aelin surveyed the room around her, scowling at the gold accented furniture.

She grinned when her eyes fell on the decorative swords mounted above the dresser, "idiots" she sneered under her breath.

Aelin slid out of the bed, rubbing her limbs that were covered in bandages. Actually, she thought, quickly padding herself down, she was completely covered in bandages- from her ankles to the top of her neck. Well, Aelin supposed that was necessary, he had made sure to mark every inch of her. Aelin sighed slamming the lid shut on those thoughts.

Aelin nearly jumped when the door was opened, she should've heard the footsteps. Infact she realised her hearing was rather muted, after a moment of panic Aelin realised that it was because she was in her human form. Aelin regained herself and faced the intruder, a woman in an exquisite gown and thick golden curls stood in the door frame. Her pink lips stretched into a smile before she stepped into the room. Her face was in the shadow of a large blue hood, that almost concealed the sharp points of her ears.

"Hello, darling. Good rest?" She said, her pleasant smile remaining. Her voice was soft and sweet, and utter bullshit. It was the same voice the whores in Adarlan used to seem innocent and lovely.

When Aelin showed no reaction, she delicately walked past her and straightened the sheets on the bed. That was peculiar, sense Aelin was positive this female was not a servant, probably just part of the act then.

While the blond was smoothing out the sheets, she said, "We tried the best we could to patch you up. But unfortunately you'll still have all those horrid scars." The Female pouted at this, and Aelin had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. "And nothing could be done about those on your face.", she finished scowling at the jagged lines that now adorned her cheekbones, courtesy of Maeve. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, they looked like the ones that Evangeline had. A smile ghosted Aelin's lips at the thought of the small girl.

The female straightened and faced Aelin, "My name is Ianthe by the way, lunch is in a hour, you'll be expected to join us. Servants should be in shortly, they'll dress you." She said her eyes sweeping over Aelin's body. Ianthe seemed to hesitate, probably biting back comments of how crappy she looked, skin and bone. "The high lord will be there. He'll have some questions." Ianthe said this like this was suppose to be impressive and threatening.

Ianthe took a few steps towards the door before turning and adding, her smile getting bigger and a little kinder, "I don't know what you've heard of the fae, but I can assure you, those at the spring court are very kind. Far from the savages you mortals think us to be." Aelin's eyebrows scrunched together at "you mortals", it seemed these fae were not aware of her fae heritage. That ignorance could be used to her advantage, Aelin decided not to correct Ianthe.


	4. Bottomless

Aelin spent the time before the servants arrived digesting the little information she had, there was a high lord, who she suspected was the blond male who had questioned her when she had appeared on the dining room table. Aelin wondered if the female with the brown hair was going to be there, the male and her had some sort of relationship, but there was something off about it. The female seemed reasonable and down to earth, a possible ally. She vaguely remembered a red haired male, probably an advisor of some sorts. And she was in some place called the spring court, which wasn't very helpful. Aelin had never heard of it, but that pointed to that where ever the wyrd portal had taken her, it was far away. Maybe in another world, maybe in another universe... she had to get back. Aelin decided she would start tomorrow. First she would test the water.

Aelin subtly glanced around, straining her human ears for a sound. She decided she would take the risk, she needed to test how her powers would react in this world. Aelin shifted into her fae form, relishing in how swift and strong she felt. Still just a sliver of her former glory, but she had made it back before and she would make again. Aelin swallowed and summoned the smallest bit of flame on her middle finger. A silent fuck you to Maeve, who had tried to contain and control that flame. Aelin flinched as a column of flame shot through her, at first she panicked stifling the flame on her finger. But as soon as the pain had come it went, but there was something different. Aelin reached into the well of her power, plunging down for the bottom. Then it hit her- well didn't hit her- it seemed bottomless, even more so than before. More power, she thought, staring at her bandaged hands. That familiar fear crept through Aelin, no- she scowled herself she would not resent or fear her power. _Her_ power. No one else's, no one could control it- or her.

A thought struck Aelin, and she bolted towards the washing basin. She stared for a second at the clear water within. Then she commanded it, just like she did with her fire. Aelin's suspicions were confirmed when it was easy, she was able to lift all the water in the basin and contort it in whatever she wanted. Almost as easily as with fire. Another thought occurred to her, maybe in this world she would be able to summon water from the air, like Rowan did with his ice. Aelin sat down on the lush rug, ignoring her aching bones, and stared at her hands. The most delightful thing happened, above her hand a small sphere of water began to form accumulating more water as she urged it to grow. Aelin started to panic when the waterball had become the size of her own head, crap. How do you get rid of water? It wasn't like fire where she could just cut the supply of.

Aelin stiffened when she heard footsteps down the hall. _Shit._ She started to consider drinking it when she remembered she had fire powers. She summoned a small but very strong flame in her palm, and in seconds the ball of water had evaporated. There was a sharp tap on the door, aelin jumped up from the rug, immediately regretting it because of the shot of pain through her legs. Aelin shifted back into her human form, already missing the strength of her fae form.

She straightened her silk nightgown, and called, "Come in!"

A female walked in her face set in a firm line and a pile of dresses slung over her arm. Aelin had the impression she was a no nonsense type, better than the sickly sweet act of Ianthe.

The female surveyed her up and down before stomping into the room and laying the dresses on the bed.

She began rummaging through the dresses, occasionally glancing up at her shaking her head and returning to her rummaging.

"You go bathe, I'll look for something smaller. Fresh undergarments will be on the bed, when you get out.", she said sternly, straightening her back and rubbing her hands on her dress.

Aelin stood from the mattress nodding, as she walked towards the bathroom the female called after her from the door, "You have twenty minutes tops. Don't be late or I'll drag you out, the high lord does not like being kept waiting."

Again, with this high lord. They acted like he was a king. Aelin nodded, not bothering with bullshit smiles, this female would not appreciate it and probably see right through them.

Aelin emerged from the bathroom, she had only had seven minutes to bathe sense removing all her bandages had taken forever. Aelin put on the simple undergarments and tried to ignore how frail she looked. There was a knock on the door before the female returned carrying more dress and more undergarments. Two other females followed her in carrying bandages and tonic before shutting the door behind them. The two females were dressed similarly to Ianthe, but far more simplistic. They all gave her pitting looks that she snarled at, before returning to their individual tasks.

The servant from before, strode back the bed and resumed her rummaging while the other two rushed over to her. One began soaking the nastier wounds with an ointment while the other prepared the fresh bandages. When she had finished they wrapped her head to toe again in bandages, and left the room, the whole time not saying a word and throwing her pitiful glances.

The female then rose from her work and walked over, handing her some additional pieces for under the dress, stockings and a _corset?_ Aelin raised her eyebrows.

"I don't think the corset is necessary.", she said gesturing to her skinny waist.

The female nodded and shrugged, "I was just giving you the option.", before throwing stockings and a soft band at her.

Aelin put on the garments, while the servant busied herself with the dress, frilly and pastel blue. It was pretty, sure, but it gave of the innocent and vulnerable vibe which Aelin didn't particularly like because she actually did feel rather weak. It was modest which she supposed was for the best, sense she didn't have much to show off at the present.

When she was finally dressed, Aelin surveyed herself in the full length mirror. Her face was quaint but the swipe of coal on her eyes and slight blush on her cheeks did help. The dress did give her a little bit of curviness to her body. She looked fine she decided, but not amazing- like usual.

Aelin was being pushed out of the door by the female servant, who after a few sarcastic remarks had seemed to warm up to her. But she had just thought of something, Aelin turned around and put a hand on the woman's shoulder.

"Wait!", she shouted.

The female froze, "What?", she answered impatiently.

"I haven't eaten in a _long_ time, and from my previous experiences, if I eat, I'll throw up."

The servant bit her cheek and looked to her ceiling, "Just drink, and later I'll bring up some light food."

Aelin nodded, and turned back, marching down the hallway. Then she stopped again, the servant almost running into her.

"I still might throw up."

The servant sighed loudly, "Then only drink a little!" she said before pushing her forward.


	5. Star Splattered Skies

Rowan looked up at the sun through the trees, around three in the morning he estimated. Could the time go any slower? He glanced back down at the slips of paper in his hands, together they contained maybe his only hope to finding his mate.

Rowan raised his head towards the camp again, they were all asleep, he winced inwardly when his eyes were drawn to the embers of the fire. It was part of the reason he stayed so far from the flame, it was intoxicating. If he looked to long at it his misery would swallow him whole. Rowan clutched the papers tighter, tearing his eyes away from the glowing ashes and back to the sleeping forms of his comrades.

Rowan knew that if he really wanted to he could wake them up right now. But he didn't, it wasn't courtesy that stopped him. He wasn't exactly sure what it was, though he yearned to hold Aelin again, he was doing nothing when he could be getting closer to that. Part of him wanted to savor the hope before it was gutted and burned, and the other wasn't sure what he would do with his companions after revealing the news. Rowan couldn't and had no desire to ask them to follow him into such unknown, from which they may never return. Maybe the wyrdmarks would lead him to a world of peace. where him and Aelin could live happily forever, escaping all their problems. It was selfish, and he knew Aelin would never willingly do that. And if they were never to get back, no matter how peaceful the land was, Aelin would never be happy knowing she left her people.

As Rowan looked over the papers again, he sighed, would she ever be safe? When he reached the last line of what Aelin had chanted to activate the wyrdmarks, he decided. He didn't want them to come with him. He also didn't want to deal with them trying to convince them otherwise.

Rowan's feet made no sound as he walked over to one of the packs, pulling out a paper and pen. He knelt on his knee, and wrote against his thigh, explaining what had happened during the night, where he was going, not to come after him, to return to Aedion and Lysandra, and tell them he would bring Aelin home. He took extra caution as he crept near Gavriel's sleeping form, securing the note under a stone near his head.

Once Rowan had turned away from the camp he didn't look back. He grew tedious of his slow pace and shifted into his hawk, he flew until he could've found the camp again even if he had wished too.

When he spotted a large boulder that had been smoothed by wind and water he landed soundlessly on the forest ground, wasting no time in pulling his knife out and cutting across his arm. He let the blood well up, before he started painting. Rowan didn't have to look at the paper to draw the wyrdmarks, he had spent hours analyzing every curve and dot. Nevertheless once he had finished he pulled out the paper comparing his recreation. Every line was identical, the circle of various marks surrounding one larger and more intricate mark. How his queen had drawn this in a cramped pitch black box he had no idea. Rowan glanced down had stinging wound on his arm, still bleeding, he released the barriers on his magic and allowed it to heal.

Rowan took several steps back, not taking time to admire his work, and pulled out the second paper, containing the words of the incantation. Fenrys had said Aelin had repeated it over and over, meaning Rowan might have to do the same, plus some words were missing. It might do something completely different than it should. He pushed these doubts to the back of his mind and began reciting the spell, following the words with his eyes to ensure he missed nothing. After sometime of repeating the words he felt a pulling- a draining, the wyrdmarks began to dimly shine, they were feeding off him. Rowan was unsure if this was a good or bad thing, but at least they were doing something. As he repeated the incantation again and again and as his power was drained the marks shone brighter. The color was now clear, an electric purple that shout out in rays, illuminating the whole forest. Rowan stood steadfast, his lips now moving as if on reflex, as he witnessed the large wyrdmark twist into a swirling tornado, creating an entrance into the stone. As each word was said the opening at the end if the purple tornado opened wider, revealing the most awe inspiring landscape he had ever beheld, in all his adventure no land could ever compare to this one. Snow capped mountains, indigo star splattered skies, it took his breath away. He prayed to the gods Aelin was here, gazing up at the same sky, safe and sound.

 **Hope you enjoyed! I wrote this really late, so have misery on me.**


	6. The Bitch and The Beast

Aelin walked through the corridors, casually admiring herself in the reflections of the windows. Once you got past how frail and sickly she was, the dress didn't look half bad. The bandages that wrapped up her neck, elongated it and gave her an edge. Not to mention the two savage lines down her cheekbones, if it weren't for the story behind them, Aelin would've liked them. She wondered how Rowan would take them, would he see the odd beauty of them or just see where someone had hurt her.

"Right through those doors." said the servant female guiding her, pointing at a set of wooden doors adorned with golden leaves and flowers. A little much for lunch, Aelin thought to herself, taking the remaining steps to the closed doors. She looked back, waving goodbye to the servant as they walked back up the stairs. Then Aelin returned her eyes to the doors. Two flowers arched to form delicate gold handles, a normal person would have open one door and slipped in. But Aelin was queen, and even if she had no intention of telling them that, she was going to act like it.

So she took hold of both handles and pushed them open, shoulders back, head high, and with an arrogant smirk on her lips, Aelin strutted into the dining room, her eyes meeting the leaf green ones of the blond male who sat at the head of the table. She did not look away, she would not look away until he broke the stare. Goddamn her, she was just as bad as Aedion and Rowan. Both the red haired male and the brown haired female were there, she noticed from the corners of her eyes. The table was ridiculously large for only four people. Aelin wondered if they had only decided to eat here to try to intimidate her.

She grinned wider as she slowly, calmly walked to the chair opposite to the male, it was a good three meters away from him, and from some perspectives, the _real_ head of the table. Aelin slid into the chair her body relaxed and loose, leaning on the arm rest, and holding the stare. Her grin crueler by the second. The female was also looking at her, an amused expression with a hint of admiration on her face. The redheaded male was looking straight ahead, pretending nothing was going on.

Finally the red haired male cleared his throat, giving the blond an excuse to look away. Aelin slid his gaze to him, and as he turned to look her back she noticed with some surprise the mechanical eye adorned with a scar, her smile turned a little softer and more genuine. The male looked away, glancing between his companions. The female began casually serving herself food from the platters that were emitting intoxicating smells. The mechanical male sighed and followed her lead.

The male at the head, however, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, "What is your name?"

Hmm, what was her name? She could choose any name she wanted, but she felt more comfortable with her defaults: Aelin Glayathinus or Celaena Sardothien. Though Terrasen was probably too far away for them to know about her, using Aelin seemed too risky.

"My name is Celaena Sardothien, and your's is?"

The blond look displeased with her answer but responded, "I am Tamlin, High lord of the spring court. This," he said gesturing to the male on his right, "is Lucien, a member of my court." Lucien nodded politely.

"And Feyre, my fiancée" Feyre smiled at her, a true, genuine smile which Aelin gladly returned.

"How did you get on my dinning room table?" Tamlin continued his eyes narrowing.

Aelin opened her mouth but was cut of by him, "You said something about an iron box?"

She cleared her throat and gave him a pointed look, "I was going to say that I was held captive in an iron box."

She waited until he spoke, "Yes, but how did yo-"

Aelin cut him off, dismissively waving a hand, "Magic", she answered mysteriously, throwing a leg over the chair and delicately picking up the glass of wine. Completely at home.

Tamlin looked her up and down disapprovingly, "You are mortal, you have no magic."

She smiled sweetly, taking a sip of wine. Oh gods it was amazing, she had forgotten what flavor was. "That's what you're suppose to think." Aelin had no intention of revealing wyrdmarks to them.

Tamlin growled, rising from his seat, "You will tell me how you got here."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Because, _you_ are the one who has mysteriously appeared in _my_ court, how am I to know that you are not a spy _?"_

He abruptly turned to the female- Feyre, "Do you recognize her from the Night Court?", Tamlin demanded.

A puzzled look passed over her eyes, before they darkened. Feyre nearly growled, _"No."_

Tamlin's gaze returned to Aelin's, "How did you get here? _The truth_ , I can scent if you're lying."

Aelin struggled not to roll her eyes, instead straightening in her seat. Plastering on a look of defeat on her features, "Fine."

Tamlin slid into his chair a small satisfied smile on his lips that made her want to send a dagger of flames flying at him.

"The truth is," she said rubbing her face, "I don't know how I got here, one moment I was in the box, the next I was on your table. The only thing I remember is a blinding purple light." Tamlin slurped it up, not even thinking to question her story, to him she was an useless mortal girl, with an attitude.

"Why were you captured? What do you do for a living?", the infuriating smile still on his stupid face.

Aelin shrugged, leaning back in her chair, "I don't really know why I was taken, I've made quite a few enemies."

He nodded, "And what do you do for a living?"

"What I can, odd jobs. I've been part of a hand full of burglaries and assassinations." Lies with a hint of truth, just like Abroynn had taught her.

"Where are you from?"

Aelin swallowed, this could go poorly, "Terrasen."

Tamlin and Lucien both look towards Feyre, "Have you heard of it?" Lucien questioned.

So, this Feyre had some connection with this world's mortal lands.

Feyre looked at the ceiling, a thoughtful expression on her face, "I think I've heard of it."

Tamlin and Lucien turned to each other debating in hushed tones, completely disregarding the female.

 _Liar._ Either Feyre was stupid, or she wasn't on good terms with the high lord. Feyre taking advantage of their distraction, gave her an absolutely wicked grin which Aelin returned. So, Aelin thought, the latter.

The lunch continued with minimal interruptions, sense Aelin didn't want to risk eating, she mostly sat there drinking wine and watching them, deciphering every word they muttered.

Lucien kept glancing at her and her empty plate until he finally got the balls to say, "You should probably eat something.."

Aelin glared at him, and from the corner of the eye saw Feyre's eyes roll. "You obviously don't have much experience with being starved.", was all she said before looking away.

She continued analyzing them, Feyre was interesting... there was obviously some backstory Aelin was missing. The relationship between her and Tamlin was confusing, he seemed completely oblivious to her discontent. Which, to be fair, she hid well. Lucien seemed to be at least suspicious of Feyre's true feelings towards the high lord, where his loyalty lay was questionable. Tamlin, was arrogant, short tempered, and paranoid, which was understandable, Aelin reasoned, she was a stranger to his court. But something about him rubbed her the wrong way, and it was more than the vaguely sexist remarks that had her grinding her teeth.

Feyre caught her eye and smiled, perfectly fine with playing the useless, ignorant victim, it seemed. But Aelin could see through, she was wicked and sly. Aelin smiled back, and deiced she liked the female.

When the lengthy lunch had ended, Aelin walked through the hallways she had already memorized to her room. The servant had not been there to show her back, and was not in the room when she entered. Aelin hoped she would come with the food she had promised soon, she was, quite literally, starving. In the meantime she rummaged through the cupboards and wardrobe, for something more practical and less frilly to wear. Eventually settling on leather pants and an oversize shirt that seemed unnatural without the familiar smell of pine and snow.

After a while of making herself at home, there was a firm knock on the door. And a pleasant voice that said, "Can I come in? I brought food."

Aelin smiled at the prospect of eating, and rushed over to the door opening it. Feyre, in the gown she had been wearing at lunch stood with a tray of fruits, vegetables, bread, and a little bit of meat. And, Aelin noted with delight, chocolate cake.

"Of course", Aelin answered enthusiastically, ushering her in and closing the door behind her.

They sat on the bed and Aelin's hunger got the best of her manners, soon she was devouring the food savoring each bite. Starting with the cake of course. Feyre didn't interrupt her, and just sat with an amused expression on her face.

When Aelin had set aside the food, Feyre grinned at her and opened her mouth to say something. Unfortunately, Aelin felt bile sting her throat, and quickly rushed into the bathroom, regurgitating all the food she had eaten.

When she returned from the interruption, Feyre sat waiting patiently and they continued as if nothing had happened.

"So," Aelin started, leaning back on the headboard, "what's your story?"

Feyre pleasantly raised an eyebrow, "You first, I've never heard of _Terrasen_."

 **Ehhhhhh... Not sure if I captured Aelin's sassiness well enough in this chapter..**


	7. Mind Reader

Rowan took a deep breath, and stepped into the gaping purple hole, pushing all the doubts that filled his head away. When his foot pasted the threshold, the world behind him disappeared along with the portal and ground beneath him. He was thrown into a free fall, that had him frantically shifting into hawk form. As Rowan glided through the foreign air he observed the land below him, reluctantly tearing his eyes from the purple skies and breathtaking mountains. The dark of night shrouded most of the land's details from him, but a cluster of lights indicated civilization. So Rowan, like a moth, blindly flew towards those lights.

What Rowan found was surreal, a patch of perfection the city was. Filled with music and art. Aelin would have loved this, if they ever had the time, he would bring her here, he thought as he watched from a branch. He soon noticed the pointy ears sticking out from hair and hats, and after scenting the air he realized it was a city full of fae. A few of the residents, though smelling similar to the fae he knew, look nothing like them. Possibly branches from fae? He did not know, and he didn't care much. Rowan was here to find Aelin, he could give two shits about this world.

A group of people came down the street, the other seemed to part for them, giving them pleasant smiles and nods. Five fae, Rowan counted, three males, two females. The male at the front, black hair, hands in his pockets, had a pained expression, while a female with long blonde hair feverishly yelled at him. On the male's right was a small female with short black hair, and though her outward appearance suggested fae, the aura she emitted was otherworldly. Behind her were two others, leathery black wings adoring their backs. These males were fae, and something nagged at the back of Rowan's mind, he briefly recalled a mentioning of winged fae.

The black haired fae stopped abruptly and turned to look straight at him with dark eyes,"Who are you? You do not smell of the night court?"

Her companions all turned, the winged males pulling out swords, the female in a fighting position, the raven haired male's hands remained in his pockets, a trace of terror passed his face before it was stomped out, leaving it expressionless.

"You do not smell of any court for that matter.", the female drawled with an excited grin.

Rowan, accepting his discovery, swooped down, shifting back into his fae form. He kept his hands at his sides, in easy reach of his weapons.

"I am Rowan Whitethorn." He had the time nor the patience for fake a alias.

The fae look towards the wingless male and Rowan followed their stares. He stood more upright, with a purpose, though his face still remained weary.

"And where are you from?", he questioned.

"I am not from a land, or world, you would know of, and I am not allied with any land on this world."

Puzzled looks passed the winged males' faces. The short female only retorted, "Try me."

Rowan did not moved his eyes to her when answering, "Terrasen."

The male's eyebrows rose, "And what brings you here, Rowan?"

Rowan battled with himself, he didn't want to give anything about how important Aelin was to Terrasen, or him.

"I am here to retrieve someone."

"Who?"

Rowan swallowed a growl, "A female who accidentally... came here." , he said with more than a hint of unintended aggression.

There was a moment of tense silence.

"You should come with us."

Rowan nodded.

The black haired male began down the cobble street, the two females followed him with no hesitation. Rowan look towards the two males, one who gestured with a hand for him to follow them. He did as he was told, annoyed that he was so close to finding her, and instead he was being escorted.

They stopped when they had reached a house- no he corrected himself- a home. They entered, Rowan noting the tension and sharp looks he was getting from all but the wingless male. They surrounded him in a circle of sorts, watching his every move. The male stood at the front, hands still in his pockets, the two females flanking him. One winged male stood behind him, blocking the door. He glanced around the room, looking for the missing male. After several sweeps of the room, he found him sulking in a corner. Surrounded by what appeared to be shadows. Rowan surveyed the room, it was homely, and he noticed that all the furniture had been designed to accustom wings. His eyes settled back on the wingless male.

"My name is Rhysand, by the way."

Rowan was growing sick of this, he just wanted to find Aelin, and had know idea why they had brought him here.

"Is there something you would like to ask me?"

"Well, I would like to know how you got here. And, I would like to know more about the female you are looking for." Rowan stiffened, "As well as more about your world."

When Rowan said nothing, Rhysand continued, "You must understand, it's hard to believe you came here from another world."

"With all due respect, I have no desire to make friends here, I do not care for your politics or anything else of this world. I only want to find the female and return to my world. The sooner you let me search, the sooner I am gone. So unless you have heard of a female from another world, I wish to leave."

Rhysand's demeanor did not change, as he paced around the room, "And what if I had heard of this female."

Every nerve on Rowan's body buzzed with aggression, if Rhysand knew of Aelin, Rowan would do anything to get that information. Rowan's mind was spinning, what if he didn't only know of Aelin, what if _had_ her.

But Rowan only said, "Then I would hope you would tell me."

"How am I to know you do not mean harm to this female." Rhysand questioned, while examining his nails.

Rowan wasn't quite able to swallow his growl this time. _Him hurt Aelin, his fireheart._ He'd rather die. "I would never harm her."

The male paused in his pacing, turning to look Rowan in the eyes, "Anyone can say that, how am I to know you mean it?"

There was a list of thing he could say that would erase all doubt: Carranam. Queen. Wife. Mate. But if he were to say any of these thing Aelin could be used as a weapon against him, she could be hurt even- _Something brushed up against his mind,_ Rowan's whole body tensed. His mind's forgotten walls shooting up, forcing the presence out. He saw Rhysand's eyes widened. And Rowan couldn't contain his anger, he advanced on the male, the others around him reaching for their weapons.

 _"Mind reader.",_ he growled in the males face. Rowan had encountered few, but he knew that feeling. They were dangerous, some even able to manipulate and destroy minds. Maeve had trained him to lock them out. He had long since stopped putting up his mental shields, and now it had come back to bite him in the ass. Rowan just prayed he had pushed him out before he could've gotten anything.

Rhysand's eyes were wide, but not with fear or shock Rowan realized. It looked like pain.

Rhysand threw up a hand halting his companions who had been advancing on him, before breathlessly saying, "She's your mate."

"She's your mate" he repeated, all arrogance gone. The pain now clear in his eyes.

Rowan took another step toward him, snarling, "If you lay one finger on her, if you withhold one fragment of information, I will kill you very, very slowly."

"I won't." Rhysand said apologetically, stepping back.

"Anyone can say that, how am I to know you mean it?" Rowan mockingly replied. Still angry, but with a rising panic.

Rhysand ran a hand through his hair, "I promise I won't, and I won't try and enter your mind anymore."

"You expect me to believe you? I can't just look into your mind and see your intentions."

He sighed, "I know what it's like."

Rowan opened his mouth to object or clarify he didn't give a damn, but the blonde female beat him to it, "Rhys, you don't have to tell him."

But the male continued, "I was recently... separated.. from my mate too."

He was still on edge, but he felt a little more trusting of Rhysand.

"I haven't heard of any strange happenings in my court, but if I do, I will inform you immediately."

Rowan nodded.

"I assume you don't have a place to stay, or food. If you want, I can arrange a place for you to stay. And if you need any information or supplies, just ask."

"Thank you, but I would prefer to leave.", he said sternly.

Rhysand nodded, "Of course, you are free to go."

At his word the male in front of the door moved aside, and Rowan left.

 **HOPE YOU LIKE IT**


	8. Pine and Snow

Aelin clucked her tongue and looked away from Feyre, debating how much she could trust her. She wanted to. But this where trusting people had gotten her.

And despite all of that, Aelin was too drained to think of some elaborate lie, and she genuinely liked the girl, so she began, "It's complicated. Very, very complicated."

Feyre grinned and leaned back, her eyes twinkling "That's fine. I've been told I am very, very intelligent."

Aelin huffed a laugh that felt rather forced, swallowed and began to explain, "Terrasen is a real place. It's just not here, in this world."

Feyre gave her a skeptical look, that Aelin couldn't decipher much because she was suddenly overcome with a foreign presence. In her brain.. her mind. Just it had come, it went, silently, softly, and suddenly. She glanced up at Feyre, maybe she had felt it too, who had a forced expression of normalcy. On the other hand, ever since... things had happened, as much as she tried not to think of it, Aelin was constantly on edge.

She fought past the unnerving moment, trying to erase the memory of the feeling, "I know it's hard to believe, but-"

"It's okay," Feyre interrupted, nodding, not meeting Aelin's eyes, "I believe you."

"Anything else?"she continued.

Aelin leaned back shaking her head, close to forgetting what had happened, "You first. Where are you from?"

"Well that's rather complicated too."

"I think I can handle it.", she retorted.

"Well, I was originally came from a mortal town by the wall," at Aelin's confusion Feyre clarified, "There's a wall separating the fae... do you know about fae?"

She nodded.

Feyre leaned in closer, intrigued, "Do you have fae in your world?"

"This is your story." Aelin reminded her.

Feyre nodded, and continued, "And then... for very confusing reasons, Tamlin" she said the name with more than a hint of resentment, "...kidnapped me, and took me here."

"Okay... " Aelin answered, giving herself time to sort through and file the information, "but if you were mortal why are you fae now?"

Feyre sighed, "Long story short, I was murdered and brought back to life. As a fae."

Aelin's eyes widened, "Wow. Okay. One question, I couldn't help but noticed that there is some... tension between you and Tamlin."

Feyre reluctantly nodded.

"So why are you still here with him?"

She grimaced, "Fine. I'll tell you but first. _I_ couldn't help but notice that you smell... weird."

Aelin raised her eyebrows, a little surge of panic jumping in her throat, that she quickly stifled with sarcasm, "Well, to be fair today was the first bath I've had in months."

"You know what I mean, you don't smell... human.", she pressed with a smile.

Deciding to embrace it, Aelin grinned, "because I'm not." and shifted into her fae form. She felt more secure like this, and she sat up straighter. Feyre on the contrary, ran her eyes over her, pausing at her fangs and pointed ears, her mouth slightly open and her eyes wide.

She debated showing her fire and water off, but Aelin decided to keep that to herself. Just in case she had misplaced her trust.

"How does that work? You're fae.. but you can be a human?" Feyre said, breaking the silence.

She glanced out the window, surprised to see that the sun was already setting.

"Kind of, I'm demifae. Half fae, Half human." Which wasn't strictly true, but Aelin's energy was draining quickly, and she did want to or feel comfortable explain the whole story and revealing so much.

Feyre opened her mouth, but Aelin was suddenly overcome, her words drowned by a subtle shift in her that made her heart a little lighter. Then she smelt it, a scent so familiar that when she scented it she forgot that there was ever a time she hadn't, and that she hadn't for so long, Pine and Snow. _Rowan. Rowan, he was close._ How, she did not know. It was nearly impossible that he had come here, to the same world. And as much as she wanted to believe he was here, she didn't dare, didn't dare hope for one second. The more Aelin thought about it, the more grateful she was that he wasn't here. Because he wasn't, because he couldn't be here, and it was foolish to think he was. Rowan was safe with Aedion and Lysandra. And it was good he wasn't here because that would mean he was in more danger- in a foreign land. And who knows how vast this world could be, if he had come here, they could've lost each other and the others forever. So it was good Rowan wasn't here. Or at least that's what she told herself.

"Celaena?" Feyre said, snapping her out of it.

"Sorry, just exhausted." Which wasn't a lie. Aelin was so tired, from her wounds, mental and physical. But she was reluctant when Feyre dismissed herself, telling Aelin to get some rest, still however tired she was, Aelin didn't want to be left to wallow in those wounds, and she feared where her sleep would return her. Yet she made no attempt to stop Feyre as she exited, informing her were her room was in case Aelin needed anything, which she only half listened to.

Aelin sat on her bed, vaguely staring at her face, scarred pale skin stretched over bone. When the scent of Rowan that coursed through her became too painful Aelin shifted back to her human form, after practicing with her fire and water for a few minutes. However she was still not prepared to face her sleep, so she went out in search of Feyre, following the directions she hazily remembered. Taking a few detours to scope her surroundings.

Aelin strolled down the hallway that she knew Feyre's room was on, and then, even with her human ears she heard it: A growling male. Not unusual for fae, she had dealt with her fair share of growling pissy males, but something about it put her on edge. As she walked closer, not quite strolling anymore, she recognized it as Tamlin, and she could hear Feyre's muffled voice, too high pitched and too giggly for normal her. Unfortunately, Aelin was familiar with that type of voice, it was for two things, idiotic flirting (which didn't seem like something Feyre would use.), or fending off persistent men when one did not want to aggravate them. And from the slight edge she detected, Aelin suspected the latter, which is what made her strides longer and her legs faster.

She reached the door, plastering the largest most ignorant smile she could, on her face, straightening in a non-threatening stance that Aelin could easily turn into a lunge. And sharply knocked thrice, just to inform them that she wasn't going away. It may be none of her business, but after Feyre's clear discontent with Tamlin, she didn't care. All noise stopped, Aelin gave them a second before abruptly swinging the door wide open. Making sure that smile was still on.

Aelin ran her eyes over the scene in the room, a crumpled shirt on the floor, slightly ruffled bed sheets, a chair that had been turned over on its side, a shirtless Tamlin snarling at her, his body facing Feyre who was pressed up against the bed, wide eyed, and as pale as a ghost.

Of course, Aelin pretended she didn't notice any of this, instead, saying in a cheery voice, "Hey! Feyre, do you mind showing me where the library is?"

Tamlin who she was hating more and more every time Aelin saw his stupid face, bared his teeth, about to tell her go away.

Luckily, Feyre pushed past him with a shoulder, plastering an equally fake smile on her face, "Of course, right away." She glanced back at Tamlin, throwing him a very convincing smile, "I'll see you later, Tam." as if nothing had happened.

She walked towards Aelin, grabbing her forearm and leading her out, closing the door behind them. Feyre keep this up until they were walking down a flight of stairs, where her smile faded, her shoulders slouched, and she let out a long breath.

After a moment of silence, Feyre's hand still on her arm- gripping tighter now, she spoke, "Do you want to got to the Library?" She asked, eyes ahead, lips in a firm line, her voice low and hoarse.

"Yes." Aelin answered simply, she wasn't gonna bring it up if Feyre didn't want to talk about it. But she did want books, lots of them, even if it was selfish.

Feyre guided her to the library, which was massive, and wonderfully decorated, Aelin could not wait to get her hands on the pages, and spend all night absorbing the words. Feyre released her arm, and Aelin left her staring at the mural on the wall.

Around fifteen minutes later Aelin returned, a stack of ten books expertly balanced in her arms. She would've stayed much longer, but she had begun to feel guilty for abandoning Feyre.

They walked from the room, saying nothing, until they got to the stairs.

"Do you want to stay in my room?" Aelin asked reverently.

Feyre nodded, and they continued up.

She wasn't going to pity Feyre, she felt bad for her and she despised that tool, but being pitied made you feel weak and broken. Or at least that was what it was like for Aelin, and she thought that Feyre probably felt the same way.

It wasn't till they reached her room's door, that Feyre turned and looked Aelin in the eyes, "Thank you."

Aelin curtly nodded, and pushed open the door with her foot.

She walked over to her bed, eager to rid her arms of the books' weight, allowing them to tumble from her arms.

Feyre followed her in, closing the door with a small click. They settled on the bed, rummaging through the books, eventually, Aelin, her thoughts gradually drifting to that dark place with every passing moment of silence, asked Feyre about books, and they had a lengthy discussion. When Feyre explained that she had only recently learned to read, and Aelin asked who had taught her, it all spilled out. Everything that had happened, Feyre didn't cry, she didn't even give herself a second to breath. His name was Rhysand, and they were mates. There were gaps in her story, and Aelin assumed that was because she was leaving things out to protect her and her court.

By the time Feyre had finished , there were bags under her eyes, and she laid down to go to sleep, leaving Aelin with her books. Which was fine. She read all night, not giving herself a second to think, she read till she felt none of her own feelings, only those of the characters.

 **:(**

 **BTW sorry for all my stupid grammatical and spelling errors, I know it's incorrect. I just have a really bad habit of not proofreading. And I'm sorry I know it's really annoying.**


	9. Lost Her

Rowan had stepped out the house, reminding himself not to slam the door he had instead shut it with a firm click. And that had been that, he had thought he would never enter the home again. He had wandering the city, searching for Aelin's scent, letting out his breath when he realized there was no longer that infinite void his bonds had previously faded into. That must mean she was close, Rowan had thought. But after his roaming had revealed nothing, and he had had no epiphanies during his little sleep, he had realized he had no leads and no food-unless he wanted to steal or eat rats. Which did not sounded appealing.

So, despite what he had thought, he found himself in that house again, surrounded by very, tense, very suspicious fae. And Rhysand- Who, despite looking miserable, was nothing but kind towards Rowan.

"I hope your offer is still open." Rowan said, trying to keep the edge from his voice.

"Of course, I assume you need food?" He replied with a grim smile that did not reach his eyes.

Rowan nodded.

Rhysand gestured half halfheartedly to the table behind him that was filled with various meats and breads, an empty seat next to the one Rhysand had been occupying.

"We were just having breakfast, you're welcomed to join us."

Rhysand turned to sit back down in his chair, the other did the same. He gave them all a smile that he hoped was reassuring. He saw Rowan hesitantly look at the empty chair beside Rhys, his eyes then wandering around the table for another seat. Rhysand waved a hand at the chair beside him, gesturing it was fine to sit there, even if it sent a slight pang of hurt when Rowan sat down.

It was nice, he supposed to have someone who knew nothing about his reputation, Rowan seemed to feel no need to worship him or to sneer at him. He was completely neutral, and the more Rhys thought of it, the more empathetic he felt towards the male. He knew where his mate was and could retrieve her at any moment. But Rowan had no idea where his mate was if she were safe- Aelin was her name he remembered. Though Rhys' time in Rowan's mind had been brief, he had heard two things, the first being that name, that had relentlessly bombarded him, just the name _Aelin_ repeated over and over. It had been so loud he had almost been unable to to catch any other information. But in between the name he had heard "My wife, My mate" just before a wall of ice and air had slammed him out.

Rowan was silently eating, his eyes on the table in front of them. Amren, Rhys noticed with a hint of concern, was peering at Rowan, her glass of blood abandoned on the table. That was very odd for her.

Rowan noticing, turned his head sideways glaring right back at her. Rhys was rather impressed by this, most couldn't stomach being around Amren, much less look into her eyes, it had taken him several years to get use to it. She held his stare before her lips twitched upwards, she was enjoying this, Rhys knew.

"So tell us more about this mysterious girl, your mate." she drawled, picking her glass up, swirling it. That got everyone's attention, they all looked up from their plates, glancing between the two.

Rowan bared his teeth at the female, "Why would I tell you anything?" He didn't want to talk, especially not about her. Even if he was eating their food, he did not dare trust him with his mate. Rowan wasn't sure he would ever trust anyone with her ever again after this. Plus half of his concentration was on keeping an impenetrable wall around his mind.

The dark haired female thoughtfully looked up, tapping her fingers on the table, "Well let's say I passed her in the street, how am I to know it was her? I could've already seen her even, but since you haven given us no description, we would not know if we were to spot her."

She was playing with him, Rowan knew but nevertheless he played the scenario in his head, what if they had? What if they did?

"I am Amren, by the way."

He supposed a physical description wouldn't hurt, "Blonde hair, golden ringed turquoise eyes." Rowan couldn't help picture her, that wicked grin on her face. And his heart sunk when he realized that she probably no longer looked like that, that she may never grin that way again. He wouldn't blame her, after all she had no doubt endured.

Amren nodded, apparently satisfied.

Rowan turned back to his plate, the other's eyes still following him.

The blonde female spoke, her tone stark and edged with distrust, "How did you lose her?"

Rowan looked up again, meeting her dark stare, "And why should I tell you how we became separated?"

'Became separated' because he could not deal with the guilt that he had lost her, he had failed her. And though it was true, he had lost her, he could bare to say it. Not until he had found her again.

"Because," Mor said, her arms crossed against her chest, "You're eating our food, you want our information, and maybe if we had some backstory and attachment to this girl we'd be more willing to help you."

Rowan sighed, she was right, they had been gracious enough to let him eat here, even if it was only Rhysand who was welcoming. "She was captured.", He said curtly, hoping that could be the end of it.

They all looked at Rowan expectantly, so he gave in abandoning his food, he didn't feel hungry anymore anyway. "Her name is Aelin. She was captured, by _this bitch_ who wanted to use her as a weapon." Hopefully that was enough to keep them satisfied.

"So she's dangerous?" Amren asked, tilting her head curiously.

Rowan turned to look at her, his lips twitching upwards, "Very." he responded, which what he supposed Aelin would have wanted him to say.

"If you piss her off." He added as an afterthought.

Rowan continued, all amusement gone, "And she escaped, and ended up here."

After a moment of silence, a winged male spoke "My name is Cassian, and this bastard sitting next to me is Azriel." he said gesturing to the winged male encased in shadow.

Rowan nodded at them, turning to Rhysand, who was looking a little more at ease, "Could I have a map?"

The other's eyes shot to Rhys, who didn't react, "Sure." he said pleasantly.

A growl rumbled through the room, Rhysand smiled "That's Mor by the way." he said gesturing towards the blonde.

 **Not very happy with this one... Ehhhh.**


	10. Just a Girl

Feyre awoke when the bed shifted and she heard a muffled scream. She groaned, opening her eyes and lifting her head from the pillow. By the time they had adjusted the screaming had stopped and the bed was still.

Celaena sat, among a pile of books, her head pressed into a pillow. Feyre rolled onto her elbows, "What's wrong." she asked her voice still hoarse. One eye closed.

Celaena pulled her face from the pillow, wide eyed and mouth open, _"He's dead."_

Feyre shot up in the bed, "What? Who?" she questioned looking around the room. Her heart pounding.

"Sirius." said a muffled voice, she turned back to Celaena whose face had once again found the pillow.

"Who?" Feyre hesitantly asked.

Celaena grappled beside her, finding an open book, she shoved it in Feyre's face.

"A book character?" she asked in a disbelieving tone, throwing the book back at Celaena.

A muffled sound came from behind her as she tossed the covers back, standing from the bed. She gave an exasperated sigh and waltzed to the bathroom.

When she returned Celaena was sitting upright, staring distantly out the window. With the pillow now away, and the light filling the room, Feyre noticed the dark bags under her eyes, "Did you sleep?" she asked, her eyebrows scrunching together in a concerned expression. Celaena needed to rest if she was to recover.

She glanced up, "No, I read all night" Celaena answered flatly.

Feyre's lips pursed, "Then you should sleep now."

"No." Celaena said softly, in a way that left no room for discussion, looking out the window again.

Still Feyre tried, "Why?"

And just like that Celaena closed off, and all the progress Feyre thought they had made vanished. And she remembered that they were strangers that had only met a few days ago. And Feyre began to doubt if telling her about Rhys had been a good idea, she had been caught up in the moment, she had felt so alone, so she had let it spill. Luckily she had still been sane enough to not mention any specific locations or happenings of the Night Court.

As Feyre looked back on the events of last night she felt so disappointed in herself, she should be able to handle those situations herself, she shouldn't have needed Celaena to come to her rescue. She was the High Lady of the Night Court for cauldron's sake, she was a master of lies and deceit. Speaking of the Night Court, Feyre should be telling Rhysand what was happening here, but she didn't want to worry him. So instead she just gave a pull on the bound that said, 'Everything is fine here, I love you.' A few moments later an answering pulse came through, 'I love you too, remember, one word and you're back here, safe.' Now days, every time they communicated, Rhys was reminding her that she could leave at any moment, but even though it was tempting, she was going to take the Spring Court down, from the inside out. For what they had done to Rhys, for what they had done to her sisters, for what they had done to the whole Court, for what they had done to _her._

"Breakfast will be in a little, come down if you wish." Feyre said with a new resolve, "And if you need anything you know where my room is."

Celaena nodded solemnly, not looking at Feyre, mumbling a 'thank you' under her breath.

She smiled grimly at the back of her head, not quite sure what to do about her, before turning and leaving the room.

Aelin listened until Feyre's footsteps faded. Yes, she was tired, but she would do anything to delay what sleep would bring her. She stood from the bed stretching her scrawny limbs which she frowned at. She would need to build muscle mass.

Aelin skipped to the bath, humming to keep her mind occupied, trying to think of ways that Sirius could still be alive. It was exhausting doing all this, just to keep her from the thoughts that every patch of skin now reminded her of. She unraveled the bandages, bathing quickly. When she had emerged no servants had come to reapply the ointment and wrap her up again. So Aelin did so herself, only bandaging what was absolutely necessary, her arms and legs, a thick bandage around her midsection.

She dressed herself in the simplest thing she could find, a black formless dress with short sleeves, it hung just above her knee, where she proudly showcased her bandages and multiple uncovered healing scars. Pared with black boots. Aelin had wanted to wear pants but it appeared the ones she had worn last night where the only ones in her wardrobe.

Aelin sauntered down the stairs, leisurely observing the paintings that adorned the walls. When she opened the door, mimicking the grand entrance of yesterday, the others were already sitting. Tamlin, Lucien, Feyre, and the new addition of Ianthe. Tamlin gave her a dark look, no doubt remembering how she cock blocked him last night. Aelin gave him a satisfied smile, happy when he bared his teeth at her. Feyre gave her a small smile that contrasted Ianthe's wide grin, when she slid into a chair.

Ianthe's bright voice cut through the icy tension in the room, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to join you yesterday, I had business to addend to."

She took some bread even though Aelin hadn't come down to eat. She nibbled on it, letting them chat, she was in no rush. When she had bored of their politics, she chirped in in the most good humored voice she could muster, "Is there a training room I could use?"

They all looked towards her, Tamlin's eyebrows scrunched together like she had said something wrong. Ianthe gave a deeply offended sigh. There was a moment of silence,where Feyre's and Lucien's eyes darted between Tamlin and her.

He was giving her a look, like Tamlin was waiting for her to realize something and take it back. Aelin, who was legitimately confused, asked "What?"

Tamlin opened is mouth, saying in an authoritative voice, "You're a human girl-"

"What he means," Ianthe cut in, "is that you are safe here, with us. Why would you need to.. train?"

Aelin was nearly speechless. She had never in her life been told not to train, she had always been expected to. Always the assassin who had some dirty dead to get done. "Well I'm not going to stay here forever."

Tamlin's deep voice boomed in, silencing Ianthe with a sharp glance, "When you return to your land you will marry, have children, and die. Why would you need to train? You are a girl, there is no need for you to fight."

Aelin laughed. First it was one of disbelief, who could be this ignorant? She had dealt with her fair share of sexism, but they had always knew who she was, what she could do. The laugh soon turned dark and mocking. She didn't know what to say, too much rage and disbelief rushing to her head to think of a coherent retort.

"Just let me train," Aelin said darkly, god she wanted to burn him to ash. _"I'm just a girl, right? What's the worst I could do?"_ Oh she could horrible things, she could burn him inside out, slowly. She could show the world what was under that skin, the flesh, muscle, bone. She could see if he even had a brain.

 _"No."_ He growled.

Fine. Asking his permission was just a courtesy. Still she clutched her steak knife, and Aelin could help herself when she stretched her arms out, knife still in hand, from flicking her wrist. Sending the knife flying, over Tamlin's head slicing a loose strand of that blond hair, before tearing into the painting's canvas behind him. Piercing the flower's bulb.

"Oops."


	11. I Want To

Mor glared at the male's back- Rowan, she didn't know what had gotten into Rhys. First he was refusing to get Feyre back, even though he could and she could tell it was killing him. Now he was allowing this stranger to stay, in Velaris, the city all of them had sacrificed so much to keep hidden. He should've have killed him on sight. Right then and there. But no, here Rowan was, eating their food, and being given a map.

Why? Because him and Rhysand shared some special bond. Just because he too was separated from his mate. And yes, Mor did feel a pang of sympathy towards the male. But the anger that her high lady was in the very same court she had saved her from overpowered it. Everything was just wrong.

She didn't move when Az slid up beside her, his form covered in shadows. The rest of the court just went along with this, this insane risk.

"I don't trust him." she muttered to him.

The shadows paled and she caught the flick of movement as Azriel nodded, "But Rhysand does."

"Rhys can hardly function, much less think right.", Mor said defiantly.

He grimaced behind the shadows, "It's hard on everyone."

She grunted ending the conversation.

Rowan sat in his seat waiting for Rhysand to return with the map, Armen's and Cassian's eyes watched him carefully and he could feel Mor's eyes baring into his back. They had every right to be suspicious. Rhysand returned a scroll in hand he snapped his fingers and the food on the table cleared, he had little time to wonder what kind of magic, that was before Rhysand sprawled the map on the table.

"This," he said, gesturing to a large part of the map that had close to no cities or markings, "is the mortal lands, Here," he pointed at a small area that was covered in mountains, again almost having no markings, "is where we are now, the Nightcourt."

Rowan nodded.

"Below us is the Day court, then the Dawn court, the Winter court, the Summer, the Autumn, and finally, " Rhysand said in a strained voice, "the Spring court."

A collective growl went around the room.

Rowan took the moment to memorize the map the best he could before asking, "Is there any place that I definitely don't want her to be? Where would she be in the most danger?"

Rhysand ran a hand through his dark hair, "Well," he started, "the courts are all relatively safe, I would say the Spring court wouldn't be pleasant, but" he said bitterly, "I am biased."

He paused, his face falling, "And, admittedly, the worst court to be in would be mine- Not this part," he clarified, "but there are some parts that are very dangerous."

Rowan couldn't help tapping his fingers nervously. If she was hurt- or worse.. he wouldn't let himself even think of it.

Rhysand glanced at him, "If she did turn up there they should've contacted me."

Rowan nodded, appreciating the male's attempt to reassure him, "Is there a way I could search there?"

The male straightened, hesitating. He bit his lip and shoved his hands into his pockets. Before Rhysand could think of an answer, Mor stormed up to him, "No! He can't."

Rowan raised an eyebrow but didn't feel like getting in between this argument that seemed to be in the making for a long time. Asking their permission was just a formality anyway.

Rhysand gave her an exhausted yet empathetic sigh, "Mor, he's looking for his mate."

"I don't care, we can't just trust someone who came from nowhere. You shouldn't even be allowing him to stay here," she said in a rising voice, "after everything we've- after everything _you've_ sacrificed to keep it safe!"

Then the dam broke, "After all the things you've done to get _Feyre,_ and you just let her be taken away- and when you could easily go out and get her back- _our Highlady_. But instead you sit around- _sulking_ and now you're helping this random male get _his mate_ back! _While you let her decay with the very prick we saved her from!"_

Mor gasped for air, but said nothing more. She stared at Rhysand, waiting for a reaction, they all did. No one objected what she had said, it seemed they were all thinking it- but didn't know when or how to say it.

Rhysand, though speechless, did not look shocked. He looked guilty, he looked like he agreed with every word Mor had screamed at him. Despite this he did not look away, he met her glare.

He swallowed, and in a quiet tormented voice he began, "I want to Mor, I want to get her back."

 _"Then do it!"_ she snarled , taking a step forward, "You know you could- you could be there right now if you wanted to get her back!"

"I do want to." he said sternly, "I want to, but she doesn't want to comeback, she wants to destroy them from the inside- and it's a good plan, it's our best plan. And that is why I. Can. Not. get her back."

Mor's voice dropped down, and she said with desperation, "But it's killing you, she's in danger, we need to be together at times like these. Just tell her she has to come back, and then go get her!"

Rhysand ran a hand over his face and through his hair, "I can't." he growled, "because I promised her and myself that I would never prevent her from doing anything she could- because I refuse to be anything like _him."_ He bared his teeth and Rowan knew the argument would be over soon, _"So, no matter how much it kills me, I. Can. Not. I can not get her back, unless she tells me to."_

There was a moment of silence where both Mor's and Rhysand's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"No matter how much it kills me." He whispered.

 **Hope you enjoyed (again sorry for not updating in awhile)**


	12. No Life to Live

"Oops."

"I missed."

Not true actually, Aelin's steak knife had hint exactly where she wanted it to, the very center of the canvas that hung above Tamlin's head.

Aelin watched with fascination as Tamlin's face turned from entitled, to startled, to furious. His hands that dug into the elaborate table cloth covering the dining room table, began to morph into something else, it looked like when Lysandra would change forms, but much slower. She peered at them, intrigued but concerned as sharp claws began to form, dark fur creeping up his wrists, his face twisted into pure rage. And though she was in her human body she could swear she scented the aggression radiating from him when he rose from his chair. Ianthe, desperate to keep the meal civil, jumped from her seat, putting a soothing hand on Tamlin's shoulder.

"The girl is very fragile and has been through much, please Highlord have mercy on her." She begged for Aelin.

But Aelin didn't want mercy, mercy always had a price. She wanted to fight, she wanted to scorch, burn, and disintegrate him, she wanted the familiar feeling of warm blood coating her hands, she wanted that weight on her soul when she stole a life, the weight that kept her grounded. More than any of that Aelin wanted to prove- to create the illusion that she was in charge of her fate, even if she wasn't- and never had been. Even if her fate had been assigned to her hundreds of years before her birth, even if her life had never been hers to live.

Unfortunately for her, after a few more pleading words from Ianthe, Tamlin's hands began to uncurl, the hair giving way to skin, the claws shrinking. His snarl dissolved into a firm line.

"I will give you mercy this one time, make sure I don't regret it." he said his voice still brimming with aggression.

Before Aelin could damn herself Ianthe cut in, "Thank you Highlord, you are very generous."

She let out a small snarl, the only objection she would show before slouching back into the chair. If he wanted to fight, Aelin would fight- this ignorant asshole had underestimated her, her whole gender and race, and she was itching to show him who was boss. Magic or no.

She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows as Tamlin lowered himself down into his chair.

"If you deny me the respect I deserve, I will show you just how vile the fae can be." he sneered, and even from across the table she felt the warmth of his breath caress her face and smelt its stench.

Aelin felt the shadows in her eyes take over as they darken at the memories that stirred up, "Trust me, I know perfectly well how vile fae can be." she spoke slowly, her eyes boring into his soul. And for that moment she let those memories, the darkness, swallow her- wearing them like armor and wielding them as weapons.

They were all staring at her, before Ianthe, still frantic to maintain the illusion of friendliness and control, said to Tamlin, tearing her eyes from Aelin, "There was a letter from the autumn court.."

That was all it took for Lucien to hastily look away, and after a long hard stare for Tamlin to turn to Ianthe and Lucien. Feyre, however, tried to meet Aelin's eyes, her lips pursed together, and even long after she had abandoned that attempt her eyes flickered up in concerned glances.

Soon they all became consumed by their land's politics and after Aelin finally slammed the lid close on those memories, she slithered from her chair out of the door, the only one who looked up was Feyre as she clicked the door shut behind her.

Aelin sighed and allowed her shoulders to slump, she glanced around the entry room adorned by two elaborately carved doors and a throne that towered over her. Aelin took a step forward to examine the throne, painted in gold there were delicate sculptures of flowers that were adorned with jewels. So unnecessary and wasteful, she was a woman of expensive taste and could appreciate beauty, although recently the frilly dresses and shiny jewelry hadn't been giving her as much joy as usual, it just seemed so pointless now. Everything did.

She peered closer at the throne, comparing it to Terrasen's. Aelin wasn't even sure if the throne she remembered from her childhood was still intact. It had been carved from a massive oak, it was simple, but strong and beautiful. She decided she would never sit in a throne like this, it would be sickening to rub all those gold and gems in the face of her people who had suffered so much, and for so long had had nothing. She needed to get back, to her world, her people, her court.

With a burst of determination Aelin abandoned her original plan to find a place to train and headed to the library. Where she paced for hours staring at the wyrd marks she had written, they were the border for the portal she had escaped with- and to Aelin's understanding all portals, the key to the destination of the portals was the extremely complicate mark in the middle.

After Dorian had killed his father, Aelin had been able to get some books on wyrd marks and she had memorized the border for a basic portal. Simply because that fear that was always in the back in her head, that she would once again be trapped in the dark. And she had been, and she had saved herself- well... sort of.

Aelin had gotten to this world purely by chance, stupidly, she hadn't memorized any of the destination wyrd marks, so she had tried to copy one that she vaguely remembered, possibly combining multiple. It had been incredibly stupid and reckless, she could have ended up dead, or stuck in some weird dimension- but she had been near the breaking point, one more second in that hell and she would have given in, would have bonded herself to that bitch. And she'd rather die than that, she'd rather die than face her court like that. Aelin had no idea how she had made it safely here, the gods must have guided her, now they just had to get her back so she could die for them to solve the wrong she hadn't caused. In the end it didn't matter, it never had, she never even had a life to live. But at least they had been kind enough to give her time, so she could feebly grasp everything she had ever wanted just to have it viciously torn away.

 **I'm sorry this took so long, I'm just having a hard time finding where I want this story to go, so if you have suggestions, please tell!**


	13. Celaena (FINALLY COULD UPLOAD, IM SORRY)

**Really really short chapter guys, I'm sorry think of this as more of a filler.**

Rhysand returned to Feyre and his shared bedroom, without Feyre. The others had returned to their beds, Rowan disappearing to wherever he wanted, leaving him to soak in misery alone in the town house. If he had his way he would be getting her back right now, but he wouldn't, still the last time they had mentally spoken was in the morning.

 _'Feyre? '_ He questioned through the bond.

 _'Rhysand."_

He couldn't hold back his smile, just the sound of her saying his name was comforting.

 _'I love you.'_ he felt a pulse of joy through the bond, _'Is everything okay there? Has Tamlin done anything? Are you making progress, remember, you can come home at anytime.'_ Rhysand knew he sounded panicked and desperate, that's because he was. He hadn't been able to fully concentrate on anything for weeks, half of his mind was always focused on that bond, waiting for the slightest morsel of fear or danger to come through.

 _'Everything is fine, Tamlin is distracted because there is a woman here who is great at pissing him off, her name is Celaena, I'm making progress slowly yet steadily, I know I can come back, it's tempting, but I'm going to stay here. And, I love you too.'_ Rhysand smiled sadly, imagining Feyre here with him, telling him these things in person.

 _'How are things there?'_ Feyre asked after a pleasant silence.

Things were rushed and unpredictable, they were all scraping together provisions for the inevitable war, desperately trying to gain allies. In the end, they were all waiting for Feyre to make her move, so they knew what path to take. But he didn't want to pressure her, she needed to focus.

 _'Everything is fine here too, but we all miss you. Especially Mor.'_

 _'And especially me,"_ He purred.

Rowan wandered the city's cobblestone streets, hood pulled down covering his face. He should be sleeping, but he was too on edge. The initial comfort that had come from actually making progress towards finding Aelin had died, his original panic had returned. The city's sights did nothing to keep his mind from his mate, the gold trimmings of the rings around her pupils, her hair in the sunlight, her flame. The soft music that flowed through the air paled in comparison to her piano playing. He sighed, eight hours till sunrise. After the argument Rhysand had agreed on searching his land for Aelin, but Mor had feverishly denounced it, finally they had agreed to search, but Rowan had to stay behind.

Though he was grateful for their help, he knew that even after they searched he wouldn't be satisfied that she wasn't here. He planned spend the day searching the city and it's outskirts, and reading up on this world, where she could have been taken. But for now he just wandered.

 **Thanks to your wonderful suggestions I have up to chapter 21 planned. The problem was is that for the story to progress I needed a chapter from Aelin's perspective, but if this chapter were that chapter it would have messed up my 'format'. But look forward to very long and dramatic chapters in the near future.**


	14. Spring

**Really long chapter (making up for the last one.), feel free to take breaks, but please return :)**

"Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit," Feyre muttered under her breath, furiously stalking down the hallways. Her hands pressed to her ears, trying to block out the world so she could just think.

 _'Feyre.'_ her mate's voice sounded in her heart, firm and strong. Feyre didn't respond, she had to figure this out on her own. No matter how much Rhys begged she wouldn't leave until her job was done.

 _'Feyre, please, are you okay?'_ She lowered her hands from her ears, and breathed in and out, her heart slowing from its rapid pace. It seemed Rhysand hadn't remembered either.

 _'I'm fine Rhysand.'_ she said, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

 _'It didn't feel like that.'_ he replied, his voice laced with intensity that promised to destroy anyone who hurt her.

Something in her squirmed at lying to him like this, but Feyre knew if he realized what she was so panicked about he would come immediately to take her home. _'I'm fine, really, I just got surprised.'_ she insisted, checking her mental shields, then blocking him out completely.

 _ **20 Minutes Earlier**_

Feyre returned to her room, her heart still rapid from the anxiety her spying caused her. For the last hours she had sat by the window in the hallway, violating the minds of anyone who passed, searching through their thoughts and memories for a solution- a warning. She tried not to invade their thoughts too much, and she would only brush against the consciousness of the servants. Not only was she drained, she felt filthy, she would stumble upon the most private of thoughts and memories, things she knew, if she desired, she could destroy them with. Feyre never realized how obscene the mind was, until she went sneaking around in others, she tried not to judge people for the things they had thought. In the end, she just wanted to take a bath and sleep.

Feyre clicked the door shut behind her, afraid if she was loud someone would come and disturb her peace. She sat on her bed, trying to untie and pull off her boots as quickly as possible. She pulled her foot from her shoe, finally feeling relaxed, and very optimistic about the upcoming hours. She reached down to start on the tie of the next boot, there was a knock on the door and she jolted up. Feyre knew whose knock it was, more of a pound really, it was the last sound she wanted to hear now.

Tamlin didn't wait for her to reply before swinging the door open, she ground her teeth at this, but put on a fake smile.

"Hello Feyre." he said sweetly, something in her stomach churned.

Feyre looked into his eyes, trying to mimic his ignorant sweetness. She was still determined to have her night of relaxation, "Tam, can we talk later? I'm tired and I want to take a bath."

Tam's smile grew broad enough to show his fangs, he took two delicate steps forward grabbing her hand from the sheets. "Maybe I can join you?" he suggested, lifting her hand to his lips. She wanted to snatch it away, but she swallowed the bile that stung her throat and allowed him to plant a kiss on her knuckles.

"What did you come here for, Tam?" Feyre said avoiding the question completely. He lowered her hand from his mouth

Tamlin's pale eyebrows scrunched together, "Am I not allowed to visit you?"

He needs to think you still love him, she reminded herself, she didn't want Celaena to have to come rescue her again. She raised his hand to her lips, lightly brushing her lips on his fingers, Feyre tried the immerse herself in the mind of human her, the one who had been blindly in love with him, the man who had pulled her from poverty's prison just to throw her into another.

Surrendering fully to the role, she stood from the bed still wearing only one boot, and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in him. Feyre held her breath, but after five seconds she couldn't stand it anymore. She pulled away, falling back onto the bed, "I'm sorry Tam, I'm really tired, and I'm sure you have work to do."

His smile faded and he looked at her, then the ground, then back at her, "That's fine, and you're right I have work to attend to."

"And" he whispered, bracing his arms around her, leaning close. His lips brushed against her cheekbone and she shuddered, "You'll need your strength for tomorrow."

All thoughts left her mind, all repulse of his lips on her skin and his scent on her body vanished.

"What's tomorrow?" she asked blandly, forgetting her role. He pulled away, standing to his full height, his eyebrows knitted together and his lips pursed.

"Oh, you probably don't remember what time of year it is," Feyre gave him a puzzled expression, crossing her legs, "on account of being trapped in that hell hole." he helpfully clarified.

"Tam-"

He smiled sadly at her, it slowly stretched into an excited grin, "It's Fire Night tomorrow," Her heart stopped, "Calanmai."

Feyre's mouth fell open slightly, she said nothing, she just stared at the air, at the darkness that hung in the room.

"Feyre?" he asked, a hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face.

She rolled over in the bed, pulling to covers over her head, biting down on her hand to keep from screaming, not letting the fact that it would be Calanmai in only a few hours sink in. "Good Night, Tam." she said, her voice hoarse. She waited for him to walk away, closing her door behind him, and listened to his footsteps fade down the hallway. Feyre abruptly stood from the bed, clutching her hands to her head, she needed to think, she needed to pace. She stormed from the room not knowing where she was going, but every time she smelled Tamlin's scent, she went the opposite way.

Before Feyre knew it she was in front of Celaena's door, she reached for the handle. Celaena was the only person who Feyre thought she could talk to, she was neutral enough that she wouldn't murder Tamlin or insist that Feyre return home, but hated Tamlin enough that she would sympathize with Feyre- and not rat her out. Feyre pulled her hand away, it was weak to have to rely on Celaena, and even though she trusted her, she had no reason to be loyal to Feyre. Plus, the girl- woman had obviously been through hell, even if she would not tell Feyre much about it, and it would be selfish to weigh her down with Feyre's own problems. She turned to walk the other way, but the door swung open, revealing Celaena in a light blue robe, her golden hair damp, she wasn't wearing her bandages and her wounds were visible. Feyre had forgotten how horrific they were, jagged, some of them just patches of missing or torn skin. Even though she had been here for a week or so they were still bleeding.

"What are you doing out here?"Celaena asked pulling the robe closer around her feeble frame, she had gained some fat but was still underweight, her knees and elbows sharp points. Feyre didn't answer her, "It sounded like you were hyperventilating."

Feyre looked into Celaena's eyes, and for the first time noticed the golden ring that surrounded her pupil. Celaena ran her eyes over Feyre, the golden ring flaring- flaring like fire, fire, fire night- Calanmai. Calanmai was tomorrow. Her breath once again became rapid, she brought her hands to her mouth, trying to stop herself from panicking.

Celaena took a step towards her, "Are you okay, Feyre?" Feyre looked at the ground immersing herself in all the things that could happen tomorrow, for the second time that night bile stung her throat. It felt like she was trapped in here again, but this time she had trapped herself.

"No" she croaked.

Celaena look at her for a second before stepping aside, "Come in."

Feyre nodded gratefully and stepped into the room, Celaena closing the door behind them. She guided Feyre to the bed, sitting down beside her, "What happened?"

Feyre opened her mouth but closed it again, pursing her lips. Then she began slowly and as calmly as possible, "I don't suppose you have Fire Night in your world?"

"No," she said matter of factly "sounds fun though." Feyre had a clear flashback to the day Celaena had shown her her fire, of course it would sound fun to her.

"What is it?" Celaena inquired.

"It's to celebrate the coming of spring, you know, to help the crops grow and stuff." she explained, holding off before dropping the bomb.

"Oh!" Celaena exclaimed, her head snapping to Feyre, "We do have something like that, it's called Beltane. It's pretty fun, giant fires, dancing... music." she said dreamily.

Something about Celaena's casual optimism broke the dam in Feyre, "Yes, well, does your 'Beltane' include a possessed Highlord who runs around, grabs what ever maiden he pleases and fucks her" she waved her hands mysteriously, "to release the magic that will help the crops grow?" she asked aggressively.

There was a stunned silence, where Feyre turned to look at Celaena, regretting her harsh tone.

"Damn," Celaena said, her mouth ajar, "no, we do not have that."

Feyre mumbled under her breath, "Well, lucky you."

"That's barbaric." she whispered, staring out the window.

"Aren't Fae in your world barbaric?" Feyre questioned dully.

Celaena thought a moment before answering, "To some extent, biting, making big deals about scent, and just being possessive and territorial but.." she paused, "As far as I know the don't have massive orgies to help crops grow."

Feyre said nothing, not even acknowledging her answer. Celaena returned her sympathetic gaze to her, "When is this 'Fire Night'?"

She sighed, "It's also called Calanmai, and it's tomorrow."

Celaena nodded and watched her, probably waiting for her to explode again, "You're worried that Tamlin will choose you?"

Feyre chuckled darkly, "There is a 90% chance that he will choose me, it's not random, it's whoever he is drawn to the most," she turned to look at Celaena, "and if you haven't noticed, he kind of likes me."

Celaena's face turned darker, less sympathetic and pitying and more business like, "So, what are you going to do about it?"

She met Celaena's cold eyes, "I'll deal with it."

Celaena raised an eyebrow, "Are you going to tell me how?"

"No." Feyre stated, looking away.

She saw Celaena grin, her eyes becoming unfocused, like she was remembering something, "Well, tell me if you need my help."

Feyre nodded. Already thinking through her plan, she would get dressed up, she would go to the fires, put on an air of enjoyment, she would wait for sex crazed Tamlin to approach her, and them she would infiltrate his mind directing him to the nearest doe eyed maiden who was just dying for him to choose them. She had never dared go into Tam's mind before, having brushed up against it a few times she knew it to be expertly protected. Feyre may be able to brutally brake in, but slipping in without being noticed was an impossible task. She prayed with him being possessed by the spirits he would be more vulnerable.

"I need to get dressed," Celaena said, then she looked at the blood that had dripped from her wounds, now staining the crisp white sheets, "and reapply my bandages." she sighed.

Feyre examined the blood and her open wounds, then stood up, "I'll send a servant to help you with that on my way to the room."

She smiled gratefully at Feyre, who turned and left.

Aelin woke up with a pounding headache, she had developed the habit of drowning herself in wine before going to sleep, she still woke up covered in sweat, screaming, and having to run to the bathroom to throw up (from the nightmares or the excessive alcohol, she did not know.), but it helped a little. There was a knock on the door, and a male's voice called in, laced with something that bordered on embarrassment, "Um, may I come in, please?"

"Yeah, sure." she groaned into her pillow.

The door opened, and Aelin rolled over onto her elbows to see who it was, Lucien stood there, his non mechanical eye slightly wide, "I can come back later if you want."

Aelin chuckled under breath, "Do I look that shit?"

Lucien's mouth twitched upwards, "Yes."

She sighed in mock hurt and looked away defiantly, "What do you want?"

"Just to tell you that you will be expected to stay in your room tonight, we are having a celebration for spring. And it can get dangerous, especially for a mortal woman."

"Fine." she said blandly, she had no desire to attend their orgy anyway.

Feyre looked out the window, the sun was already setting, and in the fields below she could see servants throwing wood into giant piles. The manor was hectic, everyone had a job to do, except her. She was expected to stay out of the way, until the celebration came, where she would have to look pretty so Tamlin could take her into a cave and fuck her- well, not if she could help it. There was already a dress laid out on the bed, along with matching jewelry and shoes. All the servants were occupied, so she would have to get ready alone, not that she minded. The dress was frilly and very unpractical. Pastel green with yellow accents, Tamlin's favorite colors and perfect for spring Ianthe had said. She dried off her hair, that was freshly wet from her bath, and pulled on the dress. She put on one necklace, discarding the other pieces. For what seemed like an eternity she tried to do something with her hair, but in the end gave up and left it loose. She sat on the bed, going over her plan, trying to think of different tactics she could use to get into Tamlin's heavily guarded mind.

The sun had disappeared behind the hills, glowing rays still shooting into the sky, when the knock sounded at the door. Feyre stood up quickly, looking away from the fae who were already gathering around the lit fires, trying to look as content as possible. Ianthe appeared in the doorway, she gave her a sweep of the eyes, "You look good." she decided, stepping in.

Feyre tried and failed to smile, Ianthe pursed her lips and dragged her out by the eyebrow.

"You won't see Tamlin until later, he's busy with... preparations." she said as they walked down the hall. Feyre only nodded in response. She was led out the doors into the green fields where she was instantly bombarded with fae who wished nothing more than her to recount her time with the Night Court, or 'the monsters' as they liked to call them. Feyre let Ianthe do the talking, she was too preoccupied with keeping her fist from their faces.

Feyre had pushed around the sweaty crowds for hours by now, all she wanted to think of was Rhysand, and how they had first met here, but thoughts of Tamlin kept intruding. She hadn't seen him, or even scented him the whole night, this should have been relieving but it only made her more anxious. She dare not hope that he had found some other poor soul to perform the great rite with.

Aelin sat staring at the fires from her room, discarded book in hand. Her window was open, letting the faint smell of smoke in. Watching the dancing flames was peaceful, comforting even. It reminded her their was one thing she could control, well unless she was encased and chained in iron. The temptation to reassure was so strong she had risked shifting into her fae form, and making the flames dance to the soft music that floated through the window. Not only that, it reminded her of the time everything had drastically changed with Rowan, before Beltane Rowan's and her relationship had consisted of four things: Snarling, name calling, kicking, and punching. And in the space of several painful hours they had gone from that to them sharing a bed, him fussing over her and insisting she drink stew, her telling him her tragic life story, and him even buying her a birthday present. She smiled sadly at the memories, fiddling with the bandages on her hands. Suddenly she wasn't so afraid of the nightmares sleep would bring her, Aelin glanced at the still full bottle of wine on her bedside table. She had asked a servant to bring it up earlier, planning to drink until she passed out on the bed.

Aelin was tired, and wanted to go to bed, she stared blandly at the bottle and decided she would not use it tonight, a decision, that her conscious helpfully reminded her, she would undoubtedly regret later on.

The air around Aelin sucked up all the light in the world and all the light in her, she was back in her own customized hell. There was the familiar creak of hinges, filling her with dread, she wanted to move, to run, to fight, but could not find the strength. A glowing square of mocking firelight emerged as the door was opened, a figure stood there, tall and broad shouldered. Her eyes adjusted to light, and her breath caught as she shuddered. A harsh face, with a glint in the eyes that was what nightmares were made of, blue eyes, brown hair- _Cairn._

Aelin didn't dare breathe, _it's a dream_ , she told herself, _just a dream, get up and walk away._ She tried to move her legs but she couldn't, Cairn slowly smiled, he could smell her terror. He stepped forward savoring each step. His finger gently trailed up her arm which was splayed out on the freezing iron.

 _A dream, A dream._

She screwed her eyes shut, begging for mercy.

 _A dream, only a dream, wake up._

And then all at once, it changed, the hard iron turned to soft sheets, and she could hear the distant sound of music and laughter. Utter bliss rushed through her veins, she had survived, she had conquered-

Then it all drained from her when she felt the hot breath whisper into her ear. Aelin swallowed, refusing to open her eyes, she knew this was no dream.

The mattress shifted under the full weight of the newcomer and all remaining hope that the presence would vanish left her. A calloused hand brushed the exposed skin on her hip, Aelin tried to move, but she could not, she just lied there, useless.

A hand braced by her head, and one that held tightly to her waist, though she hadn't opened her eyes she could sense as the figure moved their head down. Their scent attacking and invading hers, _cut grass and spring flowers._

 _Fight. Fight. Fight._ A voice chanted in her mind, Aelin reached in the depths of herself for her flame but found none of it, found no trace. She had to shift, she needed to shift. A shudder racked her broken frame as a pair of hot lips were pressed to her neck. _Shift._ Rowan's voice commanded in her head. But she couldn't she was trapped in her useless mortal body. Fangs pricked her skin and she hurled all her panic at anything and everything inside her, nothing came from it. Nothing was there to help her, as the fangs sank further into her flesh, or when they slid out, the soft lips returning, kissing the puncture holes and making their way to her quivering lips.

Once again Aelin was alone.

So she had to do what she always did, save herself.

Aelin gathered all her remaining courage, and opened her eyes, it was not Cairn's muddy brown hair that stuck to her sweat drenched skin, it was strands of blond.

 _"Get off me!"_ she snarled, attempting to yank her hand away. Strong fingers wrapped around her wrist pushing it back to the bed. The figure, who lied half on her, raised their head, and she stared right into the unfocused leaf green eyes of her attacker- _Tamlin_.

All the fear in Aelin's body was replaced by rage, she tore her arm from his grasp, and swung, aiming to hit in the cheek. But with his fae speed and strength he had a considerable advantage, he moved out of the way, Aelin's fist barely brushing his jaw. Remembering the bottle of unopened wine she blindly reached to her dresser, fumbling briefly before grabbing it by the top, and bringing it down directly on Tamlin's head. Wine and glass went everywhere, it covered Aelin, looking like she had freshly killed ten people and mopped the mess up with her night shirt. She scrambled off the bed leaving Tamlin doubled over in pain, gripping his head with both hands- hands that began to grow thick brown hair, claws that sprouted from his fingertips. He growled ferociously twisting towards her, his now lupine eyes shining in the firelight.

 _"You are mine."_ He snarled, at Aelin as she backed away, half broken bottle clutched in her white knuckled hands.

 _"And,"_ Beast-Tamlin began standing from the bed, slowly staking over to her, _"You will perform the great rite with me."_

Aelin looked in his eyes, held them, bearing the jagged glass bottle in front of her. He glanced down at it, and she jutted it out, grazing his abdominal, before hurtling herself at the dresser. He spun on his heels towards her, the scrape on his stomach had only aggravated the beast more. Aelin stood on her tiptoes, and with a defiant smile reached behind her with both hands, grabbing the decorative swords that hung there, they were dull, heavy, and uncomfortable to hold, but they would do. She held one to his neck, and one to his chest, debating whether or not to kill him. Aelin wanted to, but these types of things had a way of stabbing her in the back. Sometimes literally. She didn't have much time to consider before Tamlin lunged at her, and out of instinct she stabbed and swung. Stabbed him right in the shoulder, and sliced him across the leg. He fell to the ground, growling and snarling like the beast he was. Aelin stepped around his thrashing form like a piece of furniture, and ran from the room.

 **AHHH, I'm pretty happy with this. I hope it wasn't too long and that people just couldn't be bothered to read it...**

 **The problem is with you guys giving suggestions is that some people know whats going to happen, but your guys' suggestions were just so great! AHHHHH!**


	15. Shift

There was an unfamiliar pound on wood that drifted up the stairs, Rhysand threw an arm across the bed only to remember his mate was not sleeping beside him. As the realization went through his veins like ice all the other worries and responsibilities settled in again. Rhys pulled the covers over his head, ready to enjoy a few more hours of sleep, he didn't have to look out the window to know it was too early to get up. Unfortunately for him the pounding persisted and Rhys was forced to pull on pants and go down the stairs, almost tripping twice. By the time he reached the door he knew who it was, Rowan. He pulled it open, prepared to tell him to go fuck off for a few more hours. The first thing Rhys noticed was Rowan's ice coated fist, already raised to knock on the door once more.

"Look Rowan," he began, but his words died in his throat as he met Rowan's eyes. And saw his own desperation, misery, and loneliness reflected there.

He cursed his own sympathy and finished his sentence by saying, "I'll get the others."

Rowan nodded curtly, the only gratitude he would show. Rhys pushed past him, stopping when he looked down at his bare chest, "After I put on a shirt." he looked up at Rowan, attempting a grin, "Wouldn't want to start a riot."

A pained expression passed Rowan's features, and the ice crept higher up his wrist. Rhysand dismissed it and hurried back to his room. When he returned his wings were out and visible, he expected a grand reaction, but Rowan just looked them up and down, his face remaining as unimpressed and disgruntled as ever. Rhys briefly wondered what Aelin was like, and what Rowan was like when he was with her. This was probably a fragment of the male Rowan truly was, so Rhysand forgave the lack of interest and gratitude.

He walked past Rowan who stood silently in the doorway, and with one mighty stroke of his wings took off. Having only the wind in his hair to distract him his thoughts soon went to his own mate, and the panic he had felt from her last night. Feyre had claimed it was nothing, and then shut him out, _completely._ He had spent hours pacing around his room, heart and mind racing. Rhysand had debated breaking through, he could, but it wouldn't be elegant or stealthy. She wasn't stupid, he had decided, if she needed help she would ask for it. And breaking through- she would hate him for it. Hoping he was right he sent a burst of love down the bond only to have it hit a solid divide.

By the time Rhys arrived, Az was already awake, he stood there at the entrance, arms crossed, shadows pooling at his feet, waiting for him.

He looked in his friend's eyes, and his friend looked back, "Can you wake up Cassian and Mor?" Azriel nodded. "I'll wake up Amren, meet me at the town house." Another nod.

Cassian growled and rubbed his face, from the corner of the room, "Why the fuck are we here? It's too early for this shit." Azriel shot him a look that silently told him to shut up, Mor sighed and Az's head snapped to her, anxiously following her movements.

They all turned their heads to the door when it was opened, Rhysand walked in, his wings gone, hands in his pockets, black hair ruffled from the wind, followed by Amren and Rowan.

Rhys looked at Cassian, "We're going to the court of Nightmares."

Throughout the fifteen minute argument Rowan sat impatiently tapping his fingers, he didn't understand why they were arguing, they had decided this the day before.

Rhysand dragged a hand through his hair, "So, Mor, Azriel, and I go to the court of nightmares, while Cassian and Amren will stay here in case anything goes wrong. Rowan will stay here too," he glanced at him, "make yourself at home." he returned to his gaze to the court meeting each of their eyes, "We'll be back in three hours."

They all nodded in unison.

"Thank you." Rowan said, looking directly at Rhysand. Rhysand nodded at him, in that second Mor and Az had disappeared and in the next Rhysand had to.

He looked, his eyebrows furrowed, towards Cassian, "What did they just do?"

"Winnowing." he replied not bothering to look at him.

Rowan stored that in the vast files of his memories for Fenrys, if he ever saw him again.

Amren and Cassian had left hours ago, leaving Rowan alone in the town house, he couldn't help the ice that coated his finger tips, it had gotten worse over the days. Aelin could be in the middle of some godsdamned forest bleeding to death, his hands began to shake, and if- when, when he found her, what if she was broken? What if he couldn't help her get back on her feet this time? He had refused to let himself think of all the horrible things Cairn could do, what if he had- what if he had made it so she never wanted to be touched again, not even by Rowan... he swallowed down the thoughts, of course if she never wanted him to touch her, he wouldn't, if she never wanted him to look at her again, he wouldn't. But he would never abandon her, the second she was in danger he would be there.

Rowan stood from the near backless chair he had been sitting in, clenching his trembling hands into fists. Cassian had told him, well, ordered him, to stay in the house, but he needed to look for her, he need to escape this body and all the emotions it brought. So flinging a window open with his wind, he shifted to his hawk form and shot through it, his currents carrying him up and up, until his wings brushed the clouds. His keen eyes searched the rocky land, and he flew until the town was just a jagged shadow on the horizon, the sun disappearing behind it making it look like it was on fire, his heart dropped.

And then, for the first time in centuries, Rowan's wings failed him.

He plummeted down his wind frantically pushing against him, tumbling him in the air, he pulled up and shifted just before hitting the ground. And then everything else failed him too, his legs collapsed, his hearing dimmed into nothing, and his sight just vanished. Then like a switch at been turned on, he saw a fragile and distinctly feminine neck on crisp white sheets, pale skin stretched over bone, peppered with black and purple, small bleeding cuts, and shriveled red skin that looked like melted wax. There was a flash and he saw tanned fingers clutch the same sheets, intertwining with golden hair. And then it washed through him, jasmine and embers, pain and misery, fear and hopelessness, and blood, so much blood. Through centuries of beaten, rotten, burning corpses nothing had ever smelt so horrible to Rowan, and he already knew that in five hundred years he would wake up covered in sweat, bile in his throat, smelling that scent. He had no body to move, no mouth to roar or scream as unfamiliar lips were brought to the horribly unrecognizable neck of his beloved, a curtain of blond hair obscuring the male's face. _Fight,_ he begged her, _Fight, Burn-_ Human, she was in her human form, he realized, with all his essence all the power he had honed over his life he commanded her to shift, but she didn't, and he could do nothing as the mouth parted, revealing sharp ivory white fangs that pierced the paper thin skin of his mate. Then it went black. And like the switch had been turned back on, his eyes focused and he saw the star splattered skies that had once given him so much hope.

"Where is he? How could you have lost him, Cassian?" Mor asked frantically, staring at him with wide disbelieving eyes.

Cassian stared back, throwing his arms in the air, "I told him to stay here! I'm not babysitting some grumpy fae bastard."

"I'm sure he'll come back, did you find anything?" Amren asked, leaning against the town house's wall while examining her nails.

Rhysand sighed, drawing his hands from his pockets and biting his inner cheek, "No, nothing."

Amren looked at him, and for more his benefit than hers she said, "He's not going to like that."

The high lord looked away, "I have another lead, to soften the blow."

They all looked at him expectantly, so he continued, "Feyre mentioned a new woman in the Spring Court, called Celaena-"

"The girl's name is Aelin." Mor near snapped.

Rhys smiled sadly, "I know, but there's a chance. I doubt it's her, Feyre would have said more if there was anything unusual about 'Celaena's' situation."

Rowan was on his knees one hand tearing up mud and grass from the earth, the other clutched to his chest. He was mildly aware of the small tornado that circled him, and the sound of thunder- if it weren't for the pure horror, rage, and deafening sadness that destroyed every thought and memory he would have recognized how little magic he was using to conjure the storm circling him. But all he recognized was the scent that hung in the air, that he felt repulsed to breath in, a male's scent, filled with lust, but at the core, _cut grass and spring flowers._

Rowan gasped for air, he rather fight a hundred wars, take a hundred arrows for her, spend a hundred years apart than have her endure that. He didn't know how that had happened how he saw what he saw, he didn't care, he knew it was real, couldn't explain why, he just knew. A shudder racked his broken frame, it was happening right now, and he wasn't there to help her, and she may be too weak and broken to help herself. Rowan would kill that male, he would kill him slowly, or he would help Aelin kill him, whatever she wanted- but the male would pay. Rowan needed to get to her, he need to get to her now, she could be minutes away or she could be months away, but like a lifeline that cut through the raging storm around him, he felt a bond- he didn't know which of the three it was, but he knew it would lead to her.

Rowan swallowed down the rising bile and shifted, the wind slowing, and rising with him as he flew, pushing him forward, faster than he had ever flown before, following the pull in his heart.

Mor shifted her furious gaze from Cassian to Rhysand, "It's been hours."

Azriel, who leaned against a wall between them flickered his eyes to the Highlord, "I can go look for him."

Rhysand hesitated, staring blankly at the window, before turning to him, "That would be good."

The shadow encased male pushed off the wall, nodding, and slipped out the door.

Az returned an hour later, finding them in the same position he had left them, his hair was wildly ruffled and his shadows hugged tightly to him, the way they formed when he was on edge.

Before any of them could as much as move he proclaimed, "Rowan has left the Night Court, flying in the direction of the Spring Court."

He crossed his arms, "He left a very large and considerable crater of destroyed land in the countryside."

"Why did he leave?" Rhysand cut in, bracing his hands on a table.

Azriel pursed his lips, shadows hugging him closer, "I'm not certain-"

He swallowed, "but there are rumors that Feyre has been kidnapped from the Spring Court."

 **Ugh, hope you like it. (I don't) sorry this took so long, I had exams… And sorry about not uploading for so long here, Fanfic was not working for me, :(**


	16. Aching Limbs

It took ten steps for Aelin's legs to ache and her lungs to burn, why hadn't she trained? Why did she have to be so fucking weak? She snarled at herself and launched down the stairs, she had to get out. Aelin had thought she had escaped those horrors when she created the portal out of the coffin, but here she was, and she couldn't go through it again. She could feel all the emotions she had drowned and locked away catching up to her, she couldn't face them now, not here in this horrid land, and definitely when there was no one to help her back up. She hit the ground hard, and a shot of pain went up her thigh, her knees buckling.

She pushed herself off the ground, gritting her teeth against the pain. Aelin's heart jumped to her throat when she heard the aggravated growl from her room. She charged straight into the large wooden doors that would lead to the unknown, the hard impact on her shoulder made her groan as she pushed open the door.

The outside world hit Aelin like a brick, she hadn't realized until now that she hadn't been outside in months. A massive crowd of unfamiliar people surrounded the mansion, none of them looked up as she stumbled down the stairs, gasping to fill her burning lungs, only in her nightshirt. Her legs were too weak to continue running as she pushed through the crowd, barely noticing the strange faces and limbs of the creatures around her. The bile rose in her throat as Aelin tried to move too fast, pushing herself too hard, her bare foot slipped in the mud and she had the strength nor energy to regain her balance as she fell.

Luckily, a nimble hand grabbed her waist, easily pulling Aelin up before hitting the ground.

"Celaena! What are you doing here?" The woman asked and Aelin regained herself enough to look up and see Feyre in a frilly green dress, her hand going to Aelin's forearm.

"I'm leaving." Aelin replied sternly, tugging her nightshirt down.

Feyre's hand slid down to her wrist, "I'm coming with you."

Aelin, who had already been prepared to push her off and disappear into the crowd, tensed, lowering her voice she exclaimed, "What?"

Feyre tugged her by the hand, leading her out of the crowd, to the edge of a surrounding forest.

Feyre leaned in, "I can't do this, I can't sleep with him-"

Aelin opened her mouth to update her on the situation, but Feyre pressed on, like she had thought about this for hours or even weeks.

"and I've tried to think of ways out of it, but they're far too risky.", she leaned closer and lowered her tone to a hoarse whisper, "But I can't abandon this... mission completely, they can't know I want to leave."

Aelin cut in, "You don't even know if he will choose you, why not hide? He can't do anything if he can not find you."

Feyre pulled away, "It's not only about today, I've been pushing him off for so long-" her voice broke, "I'm scared there will be a point he won't care if I say no."

Aelin sighed and brought a hand to Feyre's arm, she continued, "And even if I just gave in, I don't know how I would face Rhysand..."

Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked Feyre up and down, squeezing her arm, "Whatever you think is best."

Feyre nodded gratefully and further explained, "I just need to get away for a little, so I don't break down, and mess everything up- I'll help you get to your home and then I'll return here, and finish the job."

There was a pause, she had doubts about Feyre's plan, but she respected her fears, and she trusted that Feyre would make the right choices for herself, her mate, and her court.

"How will we make it look unwilling?" Aelin asked, pulling her hand away.

A look of relief past Feyre's features, "I don't know, just take me with you, we'll leave a note or something."

Despite herself, Aelin's lips stretched into a small smile, "You want me to kidnap you? And leave a ransom note?"

She shrugged, "If you want to think of it that way."

Aelin's smile stretched wider, "Where can we find a pen and paper?"

"Here, do you need help writing it?" Feyre said, handing Aelin paper and a pen.

Aelin walked over to the table, her nerves finally rested after what Tamlin had done- tried to do, but her legs still ached. She hadn't told Feyre about what had happened, she wasn't sure if she would. "It's fine, I'm very skilled and practiced in writing these types of letters."

 _Dear Tamlin,_

 _I am a spiteful woman, and I did not appreciate the meeting we had tonight. Therefore to accommodate me I have taken something I think you will sorely miss. I'll accept money or anything else of value (your life would be suitable) for an exchange, Otherwise I will kill her, or perhaps I will give her to that Night Court that you spoke so freely of. You should really stop underestimating females._

 _Love, Celaena._

They left the note folded on the pillow of Feyre's bed, went to Aelin's now empty room, grabbing clothes and any other supplies they could need. If Feyre scented Tamlin in the room she didn't say anything, she did, however, manage to find daggers and a sword for Aelin and a longbow for herself while Aelin changed into something warmer and less revealing. Then they returned to the crowds. Nobody paid them heed as pushed through, and disappeared into the forest.

The forest was dark, and Aelin saw faces wherever she looked, Feyre must have been uneasy to, because when she leaned into talk her voice was a hoarse whisper, "We have to get out of the Spring Court as fast as possible, and we can't winnow."

Aelin turned to Feyre, "What is that?"

"They don't have winnowing in your world?"

"I won't be able to answer that until you tell me what it is." Aelin responded.

Feyre paused, "It allows you to instantly... transport yourself almost anywhere."

"Oh, yes... we have that, but it is extremely rare."

Feyre nodded and continued, "The point is we need to get out fast, and it's quite a distance to cover..." she paused their hike over the rocky terrain to look Aelin's feeble frame over.

Aelin was already sweating and aching from the walk but she didn't tell Feyre that.

"if it's possible, we should run." she finished hesitantly.

Aelin nodded, "Just give me a minute."

She closed her eyes, and shifted into her fae form. For a second all she could feel was a tug oh her heart, and her eyes snapped open. What was that? Could she really feel him from this far away? Aelin pushed down the questions and thoughts, forcing herself not to jump to assumptions and with a nod to Feyre began to run. She stumbled on a root, it had been too long since she had been in her fae form, much less ran in it, and she was no longer use to its long limbs.

It only took thirty minutes of slow, clumsy running for Aelin to vomit twice into a nearby bush.

 **Fast update, but is it a good update? I hope you think so.**


	17. Divided

There was no air in Rhysand's lungs to roar or scream, his tongue was useless in his mouth, his body motionless, to heavy to move. His mate had been taken against her will. The thread that he had clung to- that she wished to be there, was snapped and the could feel himself falling into a sea panic and emptiness. Rhys was vaguely aware of the companions surrounding him, Mor's knuckles were white as her hands clutched the back of the chair he stood by. Az and Cassian both had drawn their swords. And Amren just stood, awaiting command. They all were, waiting for him to command them, or for a response. But there was such roaring silence in his mind, everything had stopped, his heart, his blood. Of course, they were only rumors he reminded himself, only rumors. His mind slowly clicked back into motion, if Feyre had been kidnapped she would have told him through the bond- he would have felt her panic.

He knew one reach down the bond would confirm or shatter his hopes. But Rhysand waited, his eyes fluttering closed as he attempted to inhale and exhale, she was probably fine and he didn't want to alarm her with his own panic. He opened his eyes, mouth in a firm line and plunged down the bond- only to hit a wall- a block, a divide. Not her familiar barrier that had his stomach coiling in anger, worry, and hurt- and wrongness, but a foreign barrier. One that he did not recognize, an invader in this precious and holy tie between them. The coiled rage exploded and he threw all of it, the anger, the fear, at that alien wall. And it did not fall, it did not shudder under that immense power.

"It's blocked." Rhysand stated, his lips like lead.

They had known him for centuries and he didn't have to clarify what was blocked. Rhys looked up, and he wished in that moment that he wasn't their Highlord, that they weren't all looking at him for a plan. That he could turn to someone else to guide him to tell him what to do to get her back, because right now, he didn't know what to.

"Break through!" Mor growled.

Rhysand met her eyes and saw the words she held back, _it's your fault_. And it was, he had no choice but to believe that she had been taken, if he had listened to Mor and gotten her out when she had told him to, it would have been fine. Feyre would be beside him.

He swallowed, "I tried. It didn't do anything." Even as Rhys said the words he didn't quite believe them, his whole life he had been labeled the most powerful fae male in existence, yet he was unable to break this divide.

"Rhys," Azriel began, taking a stride forward to clasp a hand on his shoulder, "there's more."

Rhysand nodded, and Azriel continued, "They're saying that a woman took her, her name being Celaena. She matches the description of Rowan's mate."

More guilt and regret washed through him, it was all his fault. Rhys should have listened to Mor, how could he have gone through so much to protect the ones he loved and still been naïve enough to allow a stranger into his court. And Celaena, he knew that name, Feyre had mentioned her only days before, but he had been too busy to ask her about it. If only he had asked, maybe he would have been able to detect her ill will, and then he would have gotten her out of there.

Every word Rowan had muttered about the girl- Aelin, Celaena, he didn't know, played in Rhysand's head. One thing stuck out, _So she's dangerous? Very._

"What are we going to do?" Cassian's voice echoed through the silent house, strong and clear. None of his usual humor, and Rhysand was thankful for it.

One more time Rhys gathered his power and hurled it at the barrier. Nothing, no response, no reaction.

"We're going to find Feyre, and Celaena. And then Rowan."

"And if she's hurt.." he didn't have to finish. After all, they had known each other for centuries.

Rowan had never flown so fast, he didn't swerve to avoid trees. His wings hit branches as the rush of his wind guided him. It was this vague pull at his magic, and he just let it take over, let himself hurl through the channel it created, blindly hoping it would lead to Aelin. His mind never strayed from her. Maybe it made him a horrible male that he could care less about this world, or the court he had left, that all he could care about was Aelin. But she was his mate, and she was in danger, everything else was second to her.

Rowan had been flying for hours, if not days, and he had passed through many lands that he hadn't even bothered to glimpse at, but he remembered biting cold and snow blinding him, and now, he saw yellow and orange leaves whip around him. He had a moment of clarity and he went through the mental list he had memorized from the map, Night Court, Day Court, Dawn Court, Winter Court, Summer Court, Autumn Court- that must be where he was now, and lastly the Spring Court. He would have hope she was in the mortal lands, but the image of fangs piercing Aelin's delicate flesh was too firmly seared into his memory for him to believe in that foolish hope.

The smell of blooming flowers wove into his channel and his heart quickened, but he could feel a burnout creeping near, his magic was slower, his wings hurt, his eyes unable to analyze each and every stone as they had before. But his magic was still being pulled, so he still followed.

The first arrow came when his current had faded and it was only the beating of his wings that kept Rowan flying. He saw it not a second too soon, and the last of his feeble wind intersected it, sending it off course. He dove into the trees, wings screaming when he pulled up, narrowly missing a branch, and hoped they would conceal him from the attacker. They did not, two arrows were fired in it's place. Rowan dropped to avoid them and when his wings could not pull him up, he had no choice but to shift as he hit the forest ground, the weight of his weariness hitting him fully. His palms stung but he forced himself up, surveying for the attacker.

Then a sharp point tore through Rowan's skin, through the muscle and flesh of his leg, and the shot of pain took all his magic with it. He stumbled, and another arrow, screaming with the same wrongness of the first one, the same wrongness as iron, was shot, cutting through his forearm. And then he collapsed.

 **My apologies for the wait. I hope you enjoyed, and if you want some Rowaelin Reunited Fluff/Angst please go check out my new story (Rowaelin Oneshots)! :) have a good day all.**


	18. Ashwood

"It's blocked." Feyre whispered, halting their trek through the dark forest. Aelin wasn't complaining, she was on the verge of collapsing, and she had stopped trying to wash the taste of vomit from her mouth, the break was welcomed.

But Feyre was wide eyed in fear and shock so she wheezed out, "What is?"

"The bond." she stated, a promise of death lining the words.

Aelin leaned against a tree, "What do you mean?"

"Usually I can," she paused, like she was preoccupied with another task, "talk to him through the mate bond."

Even through her exhaustion something squirmed at the mentioning of the mate bond.

"But it's blocked now, and not by him."

Aelin nodded, "What do you want to do?" she asked gripping the tree.

"You said you might take me to the night court in the ransom note, right?" she said, beginning to pace.

Aelin slid down to the ground "Yes."

She stopped, "We're going to the night court, I'll see if everything okay, and then I'll come back when I have a plan and I'm ready."

Feyre looked at her, adding "After helping you get home of course."

Days of hiking and they were only half way through what Feyre called the Winter court, if anything it was hell frozen over. If this was like Terrasen was in the winter, Aelin didn't know how she was going to survive. All the clothes she had packed in her bag had gradually made their way onto her, meaning none of them were clean and all of them were wet. Feyre had been mostly silent. Offering her breaks that Aelin gladly accepted. The Highlady's hands twitched nervously and she constantly had a distant expression. If Aelin had the energy she would have comforted Feyre, or told her of Rowan so she didn't feel so alone. But instead she just focused on moving her legs and breathing.

Aelin hated that they couldn't run because of how weak she was, they had tried but it had been too much for her. According to Feyre they would have to pass through four more courts before reaching the Night court, the winter was the last seasonal one, which Aelin and Feyre were glad of, whether it was blistering heat or freezing cold it was horrible.

Feyre stopped in front of her, whirling to look behind them, "What?" Aelin asked.

Feyre's nose twitched and her hand shot up, silencing Aelin.

Aelin's fae ear strained and she sniffed the air, but the wind that seemed to change direction every moment carried no alarming scent and she could hear nothing over it.

Her muscled groaned as she twisted to where Feyre surveyed, a gust of frozen wind stung her skin as it rushed to her face, her hair flying back. And the scent finally reached her nose, and she felt Feyre step forward behind her.

She inhaled the wind, the scent, just to make sure.

There was no doubt, it was the scent of spring in a winter's land, Tamlin. Faint enough to be a mile or so away.

She reached back to grab Feyre's wrist, twisting to face her, "We can't run, we have to face him."

"He'll get here quickly, he's in his beast form."

Aelin didn't have time to question what exactly his beast form was, but she remembered the claws he had grown when she had thrown the knife. Despite herself she smiled a little.

"We have to run, if I fight him it will ruin my whole plan." Feyre said biting her lip.

Aelin didn't hesitate before saying, "It's fine, I'll fight him."

Feyre glanced at the feeble frame under the layers upon layers of clothes, "He's very powerful, are you sure?"

She raised an eyebrow at Feyre, "Don't insult me."

"I'm serious Celaena."

She brought up a hand, igniting it in flame, "I am too."

Feyre stared at the flame, considering it, "Any moment you feel like you can't handle it tell me and I'll grab you and winnow away."

"I thought you said you couldn't?"

A gust of wind came their direction and Feyre sniffed, "It's very risky, not impossible."

Aelin grinned at her, wide enough to bare her fangs and spun to face where Tamlin would come from.

Still grinning she said, "Don't panic and do your best to look like a distressed damsel."

She could feel Feyre's eyes roll behind her, yet Feyre still inhaled sharply when a ring of wonderfully golden and wonderfully warm flame circled her neck.

The wind roared at their backs, their hair flying in their faces, their scents being swept right to him. But they didn't need to scent him to know he was there, the wind seemed to slow as soon they heard the snow crush under a heavy foot.

Tamlin was not rushed and not in his beast form when he emerged from the trees, golden hair swept back, a small, confident smirk on his lips.

Aelin's shoulders fell back, the same smile played on her lips, and the ring on Feyre's neck tightened.

Feyre gasped behind her, "Tamlin!" she shouted in a frantic voice.

Tamlin's eyes flickered to behind Aelin, nodding.

His eyes ran from her boots, to the fangs that glinted in the fire light, to the sharp points of her ears.

"Fae, well at least half of one." he said, unfazed, not a glint of surprise.

The fire flared.

There was silence, and then he asked, "Do you like hawks, Celaena?"

"You're not very good at small talk, are you Tamlin?" she replied blandly, while her brain measured and calculated what he meant. Her ears strained for others, he could be trying to distract her.

"Well," Tamlin continued, shifting his weight to one foot, "see, a few days ago, actually the morning after you had left," he smiled at her, taking a bold step forward, "we had a trespasser."

There was no noise, no movement, only a single, blaring, option that she refused to see.

"In the form of a white tailed hawk."

No, no, it was impossible, the gods wouldn't be so cruel to her, not when they had done so much to her already, when they wanted her to so so much more. But the option grew louder, brighter, and Aelin was forced to acknowledge it, Rowan, Rowan in the spring court, the tugs on her heart she had felt, and now the hawk. Pain, fear, and guilt drenched her muscles.

Tamlin casually put a hand on his sword's hilt and Aelin's clenched hand burst to flame.

"Do you know what we do to trespassers?"

Aelin didn't respond, didn't move.

"We shoot them with ashwood arrows." Aelin felt Feyre shudder against the flame circling her and her heart sank lower. The pit in her stomach was undeniable, she couldn't breath without him, and the possibility that they had him, and what punishment he would or had taken for her actions made her glad she couldn't.

Tamlin spoke slowly and softly, "He dodged the first two, but then he crashed into the ground. And he was forced to shift to fae. Tanned skin, silver hair, green eyes, and a tattoo that wraps from his face to his arm down to his hip."

 _Rowan. Undeniably Rowan. Her Carranam, Her blood bound, Her husband, Her mate._ And they had shot him, and he was only here because of her. Aelin reached for the bonds that connected them that she had been ignoring for the past months, and held them tightly.

"He must have been tired from trying to get to you because he didn't even try to dodge the next two." The words were a physical blow to her heart, "One through the leg," His lips twitched, "One through the arm. And then he fell to the ground."

Aelin felt the tears form, but she was determined to not cry when she burned this bastard to the ground, a layer of invisible flame wrapped around her skin and the tears disappeared as they fell.

"He was very, very enraged when he awoke, determined to kill me but it's amazing how a mixture of exhaustion and ashwood tipped whips suppress magic."

The tears flowed faster, hissing as they evaporated, _whips, Rowan,_ and all because he was too desperate to get to her. If only she had been there when he had been caught, if only she hadn't aggravated Tamlin. All these small actions, that she had thought would only harm herself had resulted in this. She thought she had been free of that when she had left her world, but she obviously wasn't.

He drew his sword and stepped forward

The anger flared to fury, and she wanted this world to burn, Aelin grabbed Feyre yanking her forward, the circlet of fire flaring and tightening, "Touch him, take another step forward, and I'll kill her."

"No, you will give her to me and you will come with me, and either him or you will pay for what you have done."

Aelin growled and launched, but a hand grabbed her from behind. And then Tamlin disappeared, everything disappeared. Her stomach lurched, her fire vanished and then everything reappeared, but it wasn't the same. No snow, but blinding sunlight and bright sky she would have marveled at if it weren't for the pain.

Feyre was beside her, holding her up. Everything clicked, she recognized that feeling, with Fenrys. She pushed away from Feyre, the tears no longer concealed by her flame, _"What did you do?!"_

Feyre pursed her lips, "I winnowed you."

"Why?! Now he's going to get away!" She clutched her clothes, _"Now he'll hurt Rowan."_

"You couldn't have faced Tamlin, especially not as you are now."

The rage filled her, killing calm, "That's not your choice, not everyone is petrified of him like you."

"You're only not scared because you don't know what he can do." Feyre said shaking her head.

Aelin snarled, "You have no idea what I can do, beasts can burn too."

 **I would have continued this chapter longer but I have to study, btw sorry for the wait.**

 **And thank you so much for 100 reviews! 33**

 **I also feel like this chapter was rather mediocre so forgive me.**


	19. The Spring Court

_The jasmine and crackling embers that hung in the air told Rowan that this was home, this was were he was meant to be. And of course, it would mean nothing if not for the body beside him, the female who had stolen the blankets she was now wrapped in, from him, in the middle of the night. He would grumble and growl at her when she woke up, but he didn't mind much, the cold was his element, the warmth was her's. Plus, her chronic coldness always gave Rowan reason to wrap her in his arms._

 _Only a puff of golden strands strewn across the pillow showed, but her stubble curves showed that her back was facing him. Aelin groaned and shifted, her arm sliding out from under the sheets, a stark purple bruise wrapped around her wrist, and his gut twisted, in rage, in fear, in the need to touch and hold her. Rowan was afraid of what those blankets concealed, what he would find imprinted in her flesh, but he needed to know. So he reached a hand out, brushing back her hair, and pulled the blanket from her neck. Revealing the burns and scars he had not protected her from, and the hand prints that he saw peeking from the nape of her neck, the imprinted fingers wrapping around her shoulders._

 _And the two matching puncture wounds on her throat._

Rowan's head snapped up, and he groaned, his thigh and bicep pulsed in draining pain. His arms hung limp against shackles that chained him to the walls of the dark cell. A cell made for holding fae. The clamps around his calves kept him on his knees. He tugged an arm and sharp pain spread as skin tore, something, he could feel, was draining his magic.

Delicate footsteps sounded and Rowan stiffened, a square of blinding light was revealed, the silhouette of a proud female stood in the center. As his eyes adjusted he saw the blue shade of the dress with the deep hood, concealing her face, except the glistening lips that were stretched in a pleasant smile.

Thin tanned hands reached up and pushed her hood back, golden hair framing her face painfully reminded him of Aelin.

Her eyes flickered to his now bleeding wrists, "The shackles are lined with a ashwood spikes, it's draining your magic." she took a step towards him, "That's why even such a strong fae male like you is unable to escape."

Another step towards him, close enough his head tilted back to read her features, "Plus, you lost a good deal of blood from the arrows."

The female's hand crept closer and closer until it rested on Rowan's bare shoulder, tracing up to his wound, "I am Ianthe, by the way."

He said nothing.

Ianthe's hand left his arm, idly reaching for his hair, playing with the long silver strands. Rowan snarled at her, and yanked against his shackles.

She ignored him, tracing her finger down his cheekbones, his jaw, "Why were you in such a rush, Hawk?"

"We will destroy you all" Rowan growled at her. They had her here, and he would get to her and then they would make them play. Make the blond male who had forced himself on her pay, in blood.

Ianthe's thumb tugged at his lip and he snarled, snaking her off.

"Interesting," was all she said "Welcome to the Spring Court." she gave him a sultry smile, "The Highlord will see you soon."

Then she left.

Minutes later the sound of more footsteps traveled to the dark room, before the door was opened, the scent hit Rowan. The scent he had been waiting to smell, _cut grass and spring flowers._ He felt himself slip into the familiar killing calm, and he felt a whirlwind grow in his gut, fighting against the ashwood, pulsing with the pain.

The door swung open and a male walked in, flanked by two guards, but Rowan didn't look at them. He ran his eyes over the male, each inch made the wind grow wilder, till he reached the green eyes, lighter than his. And though the ashwood pushed and squeezed, the rage pushed harder and his magic released, as ice and wind.

The ice burst forward covering the walls, his skin, his shackles in small crystals that reflected the light, the force of the wind sent the guards and male stumbling, and reaching for weapons. Rowan didn't know how long his magic would last but he reached for the air in the male's lungs and stole it, took it with him.

The male fell to his knees, just like Rowan wanted, and clawed at his throat, chest heaving as he braced a hand in front of him, lowering his head to the floor.

The guards whirled to the Highlord, one kneeling down in an attempt to help him in some way. The other rushed towards Rowan plunging a dagger into his side, he gasped, the air returning to the male's lungs as it left his.

He didn't look at the knife in his side, or the guard who had put it there, he kept his eyes on the heaving male, as he rose his head snarling at the guards, "Whip him."

"You smell of the night court." The male said, Tamlin was his name. It was what his guards had called him.

"I'm not from the night court." Rowan seethed, the skin on his back tearing at every flinch of muscle.

Tamlin paced in front of him, hands clenched in fists, "Then where are you from?" he growled.

"I'm not from any of your courts, I'm not from your world, and I don't give a shit about your politics." Rowan spat.

Tamlin paused as if he something had occurred to him, "What is your name?"

"Rowan."

He surveyed Rowan, "Why are you here then."

To get his mate back. To kill Tamlin, to tear him apart for what he did to Aelin.

Rowan said nothing.

Tamlin stepped closer, "Do you happen to know a Celaena?"

 **Pretty short and not my best :( , but hope you enjoyed!**


	20. Mates

"What is ashwood?" Celaena asked, not looking at Feyre.

Feyre looked at Celaena, her eyes were glazed over, this was the first thing she had said in hours. She looked more broken, more in pain than she had when she had appeared on the dining room table, torn apart and bleeding.

"Ashwood is a wood that drains Fae of their magic and energy." She replied.

Celaena swallowed, "Like Iron?"

"Iron doesn't affect Fae in this world."

After a nod, they fell back into silence. In the light of the Day Court, Celaena's golden hair was a living flame, Feyre was surprised Celaena hadn't burned her alive after she had winnowed Aelin from Tamlin and refused to winnow her back. They had shouted and argued until Aelin had finally agreed to continue to the Night Court, where Rhysand and the court would be able to help get Rowan back.

Now the flame she had thought would burn her alive was gone from Celaena's eyes.

Feyre chewed her cheek, "Who is Rowan?" she had asked before but Celaena had avoided the question.

"It's complicated-"

 _"Her mate."_ a familiar voice growled.

They spun on their heels, the flame collar reappeared around Feyre's neck and the daggers returned to Celaena's hands, her own growl answering.

Cassian stood tall, sword in hand, his stare unusually serious.

The girl- Aelin, was deathly thin, bandaged, and mangled. And her eyes, when they met his. Layers and layers of pain, sorrow, and worry. It disturbed him enough that he didn't kill her on sight even with his Highlady in danger.

"Who are you?" she snarled, knuckles whitening around the twin daggers.

Cassian ran an eye over Feyre, he saw no bruises or marks, and though she was thinner than he remembered, it was barely noticeable when she stood next to Aelin.

Feyre spoke freely despite the fire around her, "That's Cassian, he's from the night court."

 _"How do you know about Rowan?"_ Aelin demanded, taking a smooth, practiced step forward. Cassian almost grinned, Rowan had good tastes, with more meat on her bones the female would have been stunning, and from the way she moved and held her daggers she was more skilled of a warrior than most of his soldiers.

Cassian gave her a quizzical look, "Release her and maybe I'll tell you, Aelin."

Feyre's eyebrows shot up and she twisted her neck towards the growling female, "Aelin?"

The fire surrounding Feyre's neck disappeared, but Aelin didn't answer.

Feyre turned on the girl, refusing to be ignored, "Why does he think your name is Aelin?"

Aelin sighed, "Because it is."

The way she spoke and snarled, it's something he still recognized in Feyre, the mortal youth, although he fangs and pointed ears told him she was fae. Something was off about her, and she was most definitely young, why would someone want to capture her? How could someone with so little life be damaged and mangled like this?

Feyre crossed her arms and stepped next to the Aelin, "Why would you lie about your name?"

Cassian was beginning to doubt this was a hostage situation.

"Why does it matter? It's just a name that in this world has zero connotation." Aelin said defiantly, keeping her eyes on Cassian.

"Then why lie about it?"

"I have many names and Aelin and Celaena happen to be two of them." She finished with a practiced authority, that allowed no questions.

"Feyre, are you okay?" Cassian asked, sidestepping closer to her.

Feyre smiled at him, taking a few steps before wrapping her arms around his waist, "I'm fine Cassian." She pulled back, grabbing his shoulder, "Your wings! They've healed!" He smiled at her and nodded, his ears and nose still focused on tracking Aelin. Feyre must have noticed because she reassured, "Celaena- Aelin, whatever, is okay, she's my friend."

Cassian looked towards Aelin, who was glaring at him, "We need to get to Rhysand he's going mad."

"Is everyone okay?" Feyre asked.

"Yes, everyone is fine, Feyre but we need to get to him."

Aelin strutted up to him, _"How do you know Rowan?"_

Cassian looked at her, now she was closer he could see all the small and not so small cuts and bruises peppering every inch of exposed skin, "All will be explained when we find Rhys."

"No, tell me now, if you've touched him I will burn _you_ and your whole _world_ to the ground." Aelin commanded.

Admittedly, Cassian was taken aback by the frail girl's complete disregard that he towered above her, was clad in full armor with an expertly crafted sword in hand, and was a famed commander of the most powerful Highlord's army.

All Cassian could do was stare at Aelin, busy deciphering what wounds caused what scars, before he fought past his sympathy to growl, "We did not lay a hand on your mate, we provided him with food and shelter, which you kindly repaid in _kidnapping_ our Highlady _._ "

Aelin opened her mouth but he continued, "You will both stay here, I will fly, find and bring Rhysand and the court back here. If anything goes wrong Feyre, winnow to the house and we'll find you."

Feyre nodded, and Cassian sheathed his sword, he extended his wings, preparing for the burst of energy needed to ascend, but not before a small voice said, "Thank you."

His eyes snapped to Aelin, where he could only assume the gentle voice came from, Cassian surveyed her frame again, she was a mystery. He brought his wings down, launching into the air.

Aelin was so close, had been so close to getting to Rowan, she could feel the bond tugging on her heart constantly. And she wasn't sure what it meant, was Rowan doing that purposely? To try to guide her to him, was it just something that happened when they were both aware of the bond, and both searching. Or, the final option, which she dared not consider unless she was fine with burning Feyre alive, that the yanking, the torturous pulsing, was from Rowan's pain. That each pull represented the crack of a whip, or the slice of a knife as he was slowly cut open and pulled apart. Aelin lowered herself to the ground, before her legs collapsed against her will.

She rubbed her wrists, her hands pulling up grass. Aelin knew they were obvious signs of weakness, Abroynn would have hit her on the back of the head for it, but he wasn't here, it was only Feyre. So she kept wringing her wrists, and fidgeting with blades of grass which she burned in her fingers.

"Rowan is your mate," Feyre said, looking at the flame, "I'm sorry I winnowed you away."

Aelin nodded, closing her fist around the grass to stifle it. There was no point in getting mad at her now.

"How did you meet?" Feyre asked, sitting down across from her.

Aelin look at her, Feyre was trying to lessen her grin, but it was useless, of course she would be happy. She was reuniting with her mate, and if Aelin had had more energy she would have used some of it to be glad for her, but all her energy was honed on the mate bond between her and Rowan.

"He saw me first, passed out on a roof, drunk and out of my mind." Feyre let out an amused scoff, and Aelin continued, "I stuck my tongue out at him. I only realized he was a scary fae warrior that could and would beat my ass, not some random hawk, when he approached me in an alley, as I was being shooed by a lady who thought I was a beggar."

Feyre smiled sweetly, "Is that when you realized you were mates?"

Aelin looked at her, and the simple question brought a flood of emotion, she cleared her throat, her voice still sounding raspy when she said, "No, he didn't realize either, we were," she trailed off, wondering if it would only be a waste of breath, "both in bad places and we hated each other."

The female opposite her shifted, getting into a more comfortable and more permanent position, "When did you realize?"

Again, a question that was supposed to be simple and joyous but just wasn't in her life, everything had a tragic consequence or backstory.

"I found out when he took an arrow for me, but he didn't realize, and I never told him."

Feyre raised her eyebrows, "Rhys, my mate, he also knew that we were mates and never told me."

She said it with enough strain that Aelin looked up, "How did you react?" she asked. Aelin hadn't even thought of how Rowan would feel that she lied. Her mind was swarming with thoughts of how he would take it, if he would want to be her mate, if he would feel guilty. But not if he would hate her for hiding it.

"I was pissed, I dumped his body at the house and then stayed in a cottage for a week."

Aelin's shoulders slumped, so when they finally did meet he may just be mad at her.

Feyre offered a smile, "What did he do when he found out."

Aelin shifted and clutched her knees, "I don't know, I wasn't there. And I haven't seen him since he was told."

"I'm sure it'll be fine"

Feyre was planning to further comfort Aelin, but then the pounding of those always strong wings sounded and all thoughts, all sympathy was swept away with the wind they caused.

She stood and spun in one fluid motion, her eyes were already blurred with tears and she heard rather than saw his feet land on the ground. Before he was able to rise from his crouch Feyre charged, chests and lips slamming into one another. He rose fully, taking her with him, and the next thing she knew, her legs were wrapped around his waist. Their lips crashing together, her tongue already coated in his taste, and her body already buzzing to taste more.

He pulled back slightly, kissing away her tears, his tongue lingering on her skin. And Feyre gasped, finally able to see those beautiful violet eyes.

 _"Hello, Feyre darling."_ breathed Rhysand, her Highlord, her mate, her complete equal.

 **Hey! Sorry for the delayed update, just ya know, life. You all have been so kind to me and thank you so, so much. I'm on break soon so hopefully that means I'll get off my ass and write.**

 **Oh yes, and special shoutout to Lovesick131, who is writing a Rowaelin Fanfic which I am beta-ing! Check it out if you feel like it.**


	21. Winnow

It was not the ashwood which left Rowan weak and useless or the searing pain of his wounds, but the complete darkness that drove him insane. With nothing to occupy his vision, his buzzing senses began to play games on him. First, it was just Aelin's broken figure, highlighted in shadows, kneeling in a corner. Shadows became moving figures, as he slowly drifted into what he could only hope was sleep. They gained details and colors until he could see the emptiness in those beautiful golden ringed eyes, till he saw the gold drain from her hair as her flame would die. When the last ember would accept darkness, her pupil swallowing the gold rings whole, the strings of those meddling gods, who had dared to decide her fate, were cut. And she would collapse.

That was when all his other senses would give into the game, and Rowan would be hit with a wave of touch, smell, and taste. The embers and jasmine- which he knew paled in comparison to the real thing, nothing, not his dreams, nothing could compare to that scent- would wash over him one last time. And his soul would hollow with the thud of her body on the featureless floor. No words, sounds, or movements existing in the world could communicate the pain spreading like a disease through his blood, flesh, and mind.

The pressure built behind Rowan's eyes and he closed them, were these the dreams his mate woke from screaming every night? Not the snap of the whips or the slicing knives but the flat darkness that could take any form?

The pounding of heavy footsteps cut through his dreams and the Prince's eyes shot open, his mind working quickly to separate the imagined pain from the real. But as he tracked the footsteps he had marked as prey from the day he first heard them, both were pushed away by simmering wrath.

When the door opened, Rowan let out a small hiss and squinted at the blur of figures. Once his eyes were able to stand the blinding light, he noted with satisfaction, that four guards accompanied the Highlord today. Their faces were uncovered, all having marks of the Spring Court's environment, tanned skin and freckles dotted their cheeks. They held long spears, one with a whip coiled at his side. Rowan didn't have time to squirm at the fact that the weapons were all meant for him before the Highlord bent to growl in his face, "Your fire wielding bitch got away. With my fiance."

Rowan's smile for once was not bred of him imagining Tamlin's body being slowly torn apart. Aelin had gotten away, all that was left was for him to escape and find her. And then he would never let her go again.

His grin faltered when his nose caught a whiff of flame hidden behind the Highlord's scent, Rowan inhaled deeply, hoping to catch more. Not because he craved her scent, it enraged him to have Tamlin's and Aelin's scent anywhere close to one another, but to decipher her condition. If- or rather- how injured she was. He smelled her crackling flame, probably what she used to fend off Tamlin, and then, pain, that the embers constantly wove around to conceal. But it was just as strong as the anger the flame was a product of. Pain, pain that the male before him had caused.

Rhysand marveled at the soft skin and muscle under his palms, everything about Feyre was new and awe-inspiring, and it was unbelievable that she was his. That she allowed him to hold her to his chest like this, or that she would kiss him with this much passion. If they had been separated a day longer, he would have told his court to fuck off for a few hours- or days. And he would have taken her right here, right now. Even so, Cassian and Azriel landing behind them, both carrying one of the females, was not what prevented him from doing so. It was the skinny girl sitting on a boulder a few meters away, Rowan's mate, Rhys assumed. After Cassian had reported Feyre was untouched and it seemed Aelin had done nothing wrong, he had still wanted to drown her in darkness. But when he had come flying as fast as possible, only looking at Feyre when they were finally in sight, he had still noticed how broken the girl was.

"her name is Aelin, and she was captured by someone would wished to use her as a weapon." Rowan had said the morning after they had first met. Whoever had done this to her was a monster, and he hoped they would pay. No one deserved this. Aelin looked like she had survived a hundred tortured lifetimes, layers of scars from seemingly every stage of life covered her frame. And that was just the things he could see, who knows the damages done to her mind and soul. His rage for her was gone, for Rowan as well.

He cradled Feyre to him, kissing her hair and forehead, smiling when he felt her grin against his chest. Rhysand could hear Az lower Mor to the ground and heard her rapidly approaching footsteps behind them. He growled as a fierce hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling him away from his mate. Before he could react Mor had taken up his place and was hugging Feyre tightly, pulling away only to survey for harm.

"I swear if that tool hurt you I'm going to demolish their entire court." she growled, looking over Feyre's red eyes.

Feyre laughed and it might as well been the most beautiful thing Rhys had ever heard, still, he surveyed Aelin, who had moved only to play with a dagger in her hand. He glanced back to find his two warriors also watching her closely while keeping one eye on Feyre and Mor. Amren, however, only had eyes for the golden haired female. She stalked over, Aelin's ears flinching at the sound of her footsteps, but she looked up when Amren stood directly in front of her. Amren flashed her a grin that would have dragons running, but when Aelin looked up there was no surprise or fear in those hollow eyes, only a harsh glint as she grinned back. And that may have been the most terrifying thing he had ever seen. Cassian's shudder behind him showed that he wasn't the only one who thought so.

"I hear you're dangerous." Amren said.

Aelin raised an unimpressed eyebrow, "You heard correctly, I hear your court can help me get Rowan back."

Amren smirked and shifted to her left foot, examining her nails, "Well I don't know about that…" she replied.

A growl ripped through the grasslands and even Amren's eyes widened, "Let me rephrase, your court _will_ help me get Rowan back." her attention shot to Feyre, "And now you've all greeted each other, I have a favor to be repaid."

Before anyone could question how kidnapping was considered a favor, Feyre opened her mouth to explain, "Cela- Aelin, Aelin 'kidnapped' me, among other things, so I could get away from the spring court and I promised her we would get Rowan back and find a way to take her home."

"We don't know where Rowan is." Mor shot at Aelin.

Feyre's shoulders slumped as Rhys brushed against her, "They're holding him in the Spring Court."

"We can't just march into the Spring Court and free their prisoner without meaning we've decided to declare war on them." Az said, taking a step forward by Mor.

Aelin had now adjusted her knife so it was casually in the perfect position to stab Amren, who still stood in front of her, apparently entranced by her markings, "I'm not asking you to walk in there and get him out by brute force, if it comes to that I'll take care of it." She glanced over them, "What I need is transportation and information, but if you're willing and able to help, that would be fine."

"What are you suggesting?" Rhysand asked, sliding an arm around Feyre.

"I'll sneak in, assassinate some guards, free Rowan, and sneak out. But just in case, what is your policy on killing Tamlin?"

"What makes you think you can sneak into the Spring Court?" Cassian said with a laugh.

Aelin was doing her best to remain level headed but when she rubbed her wrists and small flames started dancing on her fingers it was clear she was becoming impatient, "I'm a trained assassin. Just get me to the Spring Court and I'll do the rest."

Feyre's eyes widened "You're an assassin?"

"Please just take me to the Spring Court." And for the first time, Aelin let her desperation show in her voice.

Azriel took a step forward, "We can fly you to the border but then you're on your own."

Aelin abruptly stood from the boulder, "Flying isn't fast enough," she turned to Feyre, "I risked my neck to get you out of place and if it wasn't for you, I would be there with Rowan right now."

Feyre pursed her lips, and Rhysand grimaced at the guilt in her eyes, he held her closer to him, lightly kissing her hair.

Aelin snarled, " _Winnow me."_

Rowan already had played through his plan ten times during Tamlin's taunting, so when the Highlords and his guards exited he waited for the sound of the door being bolted and locked. He shut his eyes not giving time for the thoughts of Aelin to wreck havoc on his mind. His fists clenched as he focused only on the magic compressed in his gut, struggling to make it show itself, to fight past the pulsing ashwood. Rowan narrowed in on the shackle on his right wrist, forcing his magic to stream through his muscles of his arm. Screaming pain pulsed from the shackles in protest but Rowan would not give in. Ice formed where the shackle met his skin and each crystal formed was like moving a mountain. Finally, the ice had grown to a point where it pushed against the metal bar, he kept feeding the ice until he was not sure if it was the metal or his bones groaning. It just mattered what broke first.

Pain, Rowan knew was not from the ashwood, shot down his arm, he may have imagined it but a sickening crack echoed through his bones. He snarled, one more stream of ice to his wrist, and the shackle snapped, the sound was his savior and his ice vanished back into him. He fell forward, one hand still suspended by a shackle, and his wrist barked in pain when he braced it on the cold floor. It was bleeding badly from the holes the ashwood had pierced, but already his magic flowed freer and he could feel energy streaming into him from where his hand was spread on the ground.

With the replenished strength Rowan was able to concentrate his magic on the chain connecting his other hand to the cement walls. He tugged his arm down, and it ashwood still drained him, but that was better than having another useless wrist.

Rowan twisted backward, examining the shackles binding his legs. They were connected to the ground by screws, his ice crept under the gaps and expanded, popping one free. He winced when he pulled the spiked band from his flesh. And repeated the process for the shackles on his ankles and other calf.

Rowan's legs shook as he stood, but he could feel them becoming stronger. He slammed into the door relishing in the sound of wood splintering. And found himself face to face with a blonde haired, wide eyed, Ianthe.

 **Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed, I'm planning on finishing this Fanfic before ACOWAR comes out, so if you have any suggestions for new stories, please share!**

 **Anyway, so I've realized a big problem in my writing is my tone and pacing is all over the place. I aspire to be a novelist so I'm trying to make everything more detailed and descriptive… I'm worried that his chapter may have sounded somewhat pretentious, and I was debating editing it to try and solve it but I got to the point I just decided to post it. :/**

 **That being said, have a great day and thank you so much for reading!**


	22. Buzzard

**Yo! Grab yourself a drink and some popcorn cause this chapter is almost 6,000 words long. Enjoy!**

Aelin snarled, looking only at Feyre. The fire had returned in her eyes, _"Winnow me",_ she commanded.

Feyre swallowed and nodded. She felt the confused eyes of her court on her, Mor was the first to speak, "You have no right to demand that of us. We sheltered and fed Rowan." She reminded the assassin.

Aelin's stance was threatening- her head held high, her shoulders casted back. Now Feyre knew, she could see the marks of Aelin being an assassin. The way she moved was fluid. Even in the state she was in.

Aelin's gaze slid to Mor "Thank you for that, yet this doesn't involve you." She looked at Feyre- daring her to question her. "Feyre can winnow me."

Mor marched forward, "She is our Highlady, we are her court, of course, it involves us."

The assassin's lips tightened, "I don't care, let your _Highlady_ speak."

Despite Mor's attempts Feyre had already decided to winnow Aelin. Even if she hadn't done all those favors Feyre still would do it. Because Rowan was Aelin's mate, and she could imagine the pain if Rhys was being whipped in the Spring Court.

Plus, she liked Aelin. Her court was only seeing resentful Aelin, who had a mission and would do anything to achieve it. But in the Spring Court Feyre had seen playful, caring, and carefree Aelin. That Aelin was kind- in a wicked sort of way, that Feyre was sure would have captured the hearts of her court.

"I'll take you, Aelin. And I'll help get Rowan out."

Aelin's face softened, in relief Feyre assumed, and she replied, "You don't need to help get him. I can handle it." she rubbed the pale band on her wrist, "It's pointless to ruin your plan just to make mine a bit easier."

Feyre reluctantly agreed. She took a step forward and grabbed Aelin's forearm, preparing to winnow them away. But a familiar frantic hand grappled for her wrist, twisting her to look at them.

Rhysand surveyed her with wide, alarmed eyes, "No, no," he swallowed as if regaining himself, "You can take her, of course- if that's what you want- still you're not going alone."

A grin she didn't care to suppress spread onto her lips- just him, Rhysand. Amazing. Feyre leaned forward on her toes, lightly kissing him on the lips. She felt his fingers relax around her wrist and his sigh against her skin as she pulled away.

Aelin coughed, and Feyre spun on her toes to her. Grinning at the unamused, unimpressed, and clearly pissy assassin.

Rhysand's chest rumbled against her back as he chuckled behind her, nevertheless, he got to the point quickly. He probably had the most empathy for Aelin, "We'll winnow to the outside of the court."

He turned to face the others, "Amren, Cassian go back home." He sighed, running a hand through his windswept hair "I should not have left it unprotected, Azriel, you go with them."

Az stiffened, his eyes shooting to the back of Mor's blonde head. Rhys shifted to look at Mor, "I assume you want to come?"

Mor crossed her arms over her chest, " I don't want to, but there is no way in hell I'm letting Feyre go alone."

Rhysand raised an eyebrow at her, "Um, excuse me? I'm coming."

Mor stepped past him, glancing over her shoulder, "Please, you couldn't hurt a fly."

Feyre grinned at Mor and patted Rhys on the chest, "She's right darling, it's best to let us handle it."

Aelin was still rubbing her wrist impatiently next to Feyre yet said, her features dead serious, "Yes. Leave it to the professionals."

Feyre chuckled as Rhysand stared at Aelin, trying to decipher whether she was joking or not. Aelin stared back defiantly, offering no explanation so he was forced to move on, "I'll winnow first, then Feyre and Aelin, then Mor. When we get there-"

Aelin cut in,"When we get there, I will go in by myself, and I will come out with Rowan."

Even Feyre was slightly surprised- Rhys was intimidating, to say the least, and though they all knew he wouldn't hurt someone for something that minor it was a risky move.

Rhys' hands slipped into his pockets, "But what if you need help?"

"I'll send a pillar of fire from wherever I am, can we go now?"

Her mate ran his eyes over Aelin's frame, and Feyre hoped he wouldn't question her. Luckily Rhysand just nodded, and released Feyre's hand, brushing a kiss on her cheek, before he disappeared.

Feyre walked over to Aelin and took her hand. Then she winnowed.

o-0-o

Aelin stumbled when she hit the ground, only Feyre's hand kept her up. Her stomach lurched but she demanded herself not to throw up. She had thrown up enough in the last days. Enough for her lifetime. And Aelin would not throw up now, not when she was so close to getting him. So with all her queenliness, she forced her stomach to not betray her.

Mor appeared beside her as she rose to her feet. Aelin stepped forward, pulling her hand from Feyre's- not wanting to waste any more time. Her body was buzzing, or shaking- she didn't know. It was like being a kid on Yulemas, except she was, really, really, terrified. Not because of Tamlin, or even how injured Rowan might be. She- she didn't want to think enough about it to discover why she was scared. Aelin just wanted to get in and get out with her mate.

"Remember the flame if you're in trouble." Feyre called from behind her, "Good luck, Aelin."

"I won't need it." She muttered, slightly surprising herself. Aelin- or rather Celaena had been arrogant for so long it was an automatic response, especially in situations like this. She could change it, but she won't.

Aelin inhaled deeply, gripping her daggers as she stalked through the tall grass and wildflowers. She wished she had a sword, but at least daggers would be more personal when she cut his head off. Feyre's court had never answered her question about killing Tamlin. Though after he had tried to rape her, then captured and whipped her mate- she didn't care. And from the limited information she had heard from Feyre, Aelin would be doing her court and this world a favor by murdering that tool.

o-0-o

Ianthe took a step back and opened her mouth to scream before Rowan cut off her oxygen, and relished in the sound of her body hitting the stone floor. What a horrible female. She had probably been visiting him to play with his hair and stroke his skin again. He snarled, at least she had had enough shame not to bring guards.

Footsteps rushing down the stairs echoed through the dungeon. Or not, he thought, before a fae male appeared. He had red hair, and most noticeably a whizzing, golden, mechanical eye that was fixed on Ianthe's unconscious body.

It rose to Rowan's emotionless face, he had slipped into his killing calm, and he could feel his energy returning.

"Is she dead?" the male asked, and Rowan was surprised when he heard a hint of hopefulness.

Rowan didn't reply, this male smelled differently from the other fae here, not entirely of spring. Then the redheaded male's eyes slid to the shackle around his wrist and the punctures where the ashwood spikes had stabbed his flesh.

His eye widened and he shouted "Guards! Tamlin!"

He stumbled back and Rowan sighed, the male collapsed. For a moment he had thought the male was not connected to the Highlord, and he would be able to let him go. Rowan stepped over Ianthe's and the male's body and took the stairs two steps at a time. His ears twitching at the pounding of footsteps above him.

Rowan reached the top, the hallway he was in completely contrasting the one of the dungeons. It was well lit, the wood floor was covered in a lush rug, oil paintings adorned the wall. He tensed when guards filed in the wide hallway, spears already drawn.

Rowan gnashed his teeth and punched the first male in the face, he staggered and Rowan grabbed his hand and twisted. The Guard yelped and dropped the spear. The prince kicked the guard in the gut and he hit the floor. Two other guards charged and Rowan sent a gust of wind, sending them flying into their comrades. He picked up the spear, and in a minute flat, the guards' limp bodies littered the rug. He had tried to knock out as many of them as possible, but some fae just needed a blade through their stomachs... or faces.

He braced his uninjured hand against the wall, hissing pain still spread through his back when he moved. His magic was still struggling to flow from the ashwood in his blood. As Rowan stopped to catch his breath, he counted the corpses littering the floor. Seven. All men, five passed out, two killed. He stilled his heavy breathing to listen closely- the red haired male had shouted for guards and Tamlin, and this was all that had come?

o-0-o

Feyre's nails dug into Rhysand's hand, she was fidgeting with her clothes, biting her lip- her whole body read as hesitate and nervous. Aelin had disappeared into the horizon a minute ago, she was probably in view of the manor this very second. Feyre had told herself that Aelin was capable- she was a goddamned assassin after all, yet she felt horribly guilty. She should go in with her. Aelin had thrown up after a minute of running, she had no strength, and only two daggers and her magic to defend herself with- and Feyre wasn't sure how powerful Aelin's magic even was.

Rhysand pulled his eyes from the horizon to look down at her, lacing her fingers around his so she wouldn't pick apart his skin, "What's wrong?"

"What is Aelin's mate like?" If he wasn't a warrior Aelin would be fighting all alone, with the burden of her mate. Feyre swallowed, if she was going to follow her in, she should go now.

Her mate's beautiful face scrunched down at her, "He's... nice, why?"

"No... I mean physically." she elaborated, looking at the point she had last seen Aelin's figure.

A grin pulled at his lips and he tugged her closer, " Why? Are you thinking of trading me in?"

Feyre tore her eyes from that point and rolled her eyes, "I mean, is he a fighter?"

"Ah. Yes, definitely. His magic seemed very powerful and he moves like a warrior."

She pursed her lips, that probably meant he was big and heavy, so if he was passed out- or very weak, Aelin wouldn't be able to carry him.

Feyre pursed her lips. The assassin had kept her sane during the past weeks, she had saved her from Tamlin several times... and she was right, if Feyre hadn't asked her to kidnap her, Aelin would have been there when her mate came.

Feyre released Rhys' hand and stepped forward, "I'm going after her." That didn't mean she was giving up her plan, it would make sense if Aelin brought her for leverage. They were both good at improvising. If they encountered Tamlin they would make it work.

Rhys jumped forward, "Feyre, she's fine she can handle it." He reached for her, "Aelin will signal us if she needs help."

"But what if she doesn't get a chance to? Or she doesn't have enough magic?" she swallowed, "I'll be fine. Don't you trust me enough to handle it?" She explained her feet already moving through the grass.

Mor began approached her, but the HIghlord stood still, running his hand through his hair and over his face. "Fine. Of course, I trust you"

Mor bared her teeth at him. Rhysand ignored her, "Though if you are in any danger, promise you will pull on the bond." his eyes darkened, "In twenty minutes if you are not out, we will come in and get you out."

"Twenty minutes?" Feyre said, she had expected more resistance- but twenty minutes was a short amount of time.

"Yes, just get in, get him, and get out."

Feyre stepped backward, nodded, and then disappeared as she winnowed to Aelin.

o-0-o

It didn't take much time for Aelin to submit to the idea of burning the Spring Court to the ground, by the time she kicked open those wastefully elaborate doors her hands were surrounded in red dancing flame. She had missed the warmth of her fire. After months of it being held down by the iron, it was pleading to lash out.

The door slammed into the the wall, and it's sound never got a chance to echo before a shout cut across it. A crowd of the guards was gathered at the back of the room, most with their backs turned to her. The male who had shouted was drawing their attention to her. They were all armed with the same spear. It was a good thing she had her magic- it would have been hard to get them close enough to stab with a dagger. The guards stopped and turned to her, their eyes darted between the hallway beyond and Aelin, if they were unsure if she was a threat she would make it very clear.

Aelin stepped forward, her body as fluid and weightless- and dangerous as her flame. Keeping her eyes on them she snarled, her magic lacing around them. She was taken aback when it found more and more guards waiting behind the walls. Aelin wasn't going to let any of them get away, she would enjoy every drop of blood she spilled.

Where her magic could sense no more fae, a wall of fire roared to life, containing them in their doom.

Yelps came from behind the wall, and after a glance back the guards had to advance. The first one stepped forward, his spear brandished in front of him, "Where is the Highlords Fiance, girl?"

There was a whoosh as the door swung open, "I'm here." a devilishly delighted voice said.

Aelin turned, already knowing what she would see, "I told you not to come." and she meant the hostility in her voice. She didn't want to have to worry about not burning Feyre when she sent this place alight.

"I felt guilty." she said, her eyes oddly serious and frightening. Like a Highlady, Aelin thought.

"Fine," she nodded, a queen's nod- though Feyre didn't know that, "but when Tamlin comes, you're going to have to play damsel again." she finished, turning back to the hoard of perplexed guards.

A growl that had Aelin grinning ripped through the silence and Feyre took her place beside her.

Aelin leaned sideways, "I don't know about you but I like to start traditionally." She pulled out her daggers, one held inward for stabbing, the other outwards for blocking and slashing.

Feyre smirked, "Likewise." she drew the bow from her back that Aelin hadn't even noticed, pulling an arrow from the quiver at her side.

Finally one of the guards opened mouths decided to make itself useful, "My lady, what are you doing? This is your court, you are our Highlord's bride."

Aelin was sick of waiting, sick of talking, and she had been sick of politics since she was eight. She took three broad steps forward and grabbed a guard's neck bringing it down on her blade. Aelin felt the burden of the life that was taken, she always felt it but- when it was like what was sure to come- a massacre, a slaughter. After the first few thuds, scream, gurgles of men choking on their own blood, Aelin would become numb. Even so, the gasp from this man and his brethren as her knife parted flesh, the thud of knees and spear on floor was not entirely unwelcomed.

o-0-o

"Lord- Highlord!" a panting voice called.

Rowan froze, ears scanning for Tamlin's distinct footsteps, he gripped his stolen spear tighter.

"Yes, guard." replied the rumbling voice of the Highlord, Rowan growled, slowly approaching the sound- until-

"She's back- she's blocked the guards and herself in the throne room with a wall of fire- it's fucking mad in there. We can't get to them." the guard wheezed

He froze- fire, a wall of flame. Oh god. Rowan closed his eyes, shit. Fucking hell- that woman. He wasn't sure if his body was buzzing with terror or joy- but that's how it always was with Aelin. His chest was already pounding with just the thought of the hell she would raise, but- he needed to get to her before Tamlin did. Rowan would break Tamlin's every bone, and hand that pile of shit to Aelin on a platter to do whatever she pleased. But the Highlord would never get the pleasure of seeing Aelin again unless he was a mush of flesh who couldn't hurt her with a death machine in his hands.

The Highlord huffed, "Come with me, we're getting Rowan- the fae, we can use him as leverage."

 _Like hell they were going to use him against her._

Footsteps padded against the carpet of the adjacent hall, Rowan bared his spear and crept to the corner where they would emerge from. A flash of movement appeared and he stabbed, low enough not to kill. A man yet out a cry and curled into where Rowan had stabbed him in the side. He heard the shrill shriek of metal. Rowan jumped backward before he could get slashed across the gut.

Tamlin swung and leapt from the corner, his sword already drawn, _"You."_ he barked, not even looking at his moaning guard as he stepped over him.

"Me." Rowan twirled the spear to the blunt end and jabbed.

Tamlin hacked at the wooden staff, attempting to disarm him before he feigned right and brought his blade up to cut Rowan in half. It was a foolish move, Rowan braced the staff above him with both hands, and kicked the Highlord in the knee cap. The male roared drowning the sickening crack Rowan had memorized after hundreds of years on the battlefield. Tamlin's left leg collapsed and he crumbled next to his servant. Rowan ripped the sword in from his hand while he rolled on the floor clutching his shattered knee.

Just to piss Tamlin off, Rowan took the time to leisurely balance the sword in his hand, "Nice, I'll keep this as a souvenir."

Tamlin groaned on the floor. "Your whore is in that room with fifty guards- she's probably already dead." he spat, rolling onto his back, starting to sit up using his arm.

Rowan snarled, grabbing his collar and pulling him to his feet, "Let me make this clear, you will take me to the throne room." Tamlin hissed in his face. Rowan pushed him against the wall, grabbing his shirt with both hands- his injured hand barking in protest as he kneed the Highlord in the gut, right below the ribs. He stepped back, and Tamlin slammed on the floor, sputtering for breath.

Rowan didn't have time for this shit- he pulled Tamlin up again, "And, every time you do something I don't like you lose a finger, when we run out of those we move to bigger body parts." He grinned down at the Highlord's dulled eyes.

The color drained from Tamlin, Rowan flashed him a grin and pinned his face against the wall. To keep him still he jammed his leg into his back, leaving one hand free to spread Tamlin's trembling fingers against the wall.

"This is for calling my wife a whore." he seethed in his ear.

He held his knife against his sword hand's thumb, "No-No- please, I'll give you land, money- I'll make you a lord!" Tamlin begged.

Rowan laughed and slowly pushed down, becoming a lord would be quite a downgrade, he thought. Then he felt the blade hit the bone and Rowan slammed it down. Not taking time to scoff at the Highlord's whimpers he pulled away and pushed Tamlin forward with a knife to his back.

"Show me." he demanded.

o-0-o

Feyre hadn't thought this through, Aelin was an assassin, and if Feyre had had any doubts before they were completely gone. Aelin- Aelin twirled and swung, and plunged spear heads into people's eyes and necks without even blinking. She was grinning, and Feyre wasn't judging her- her fighting was mesmerizing. If Feyre wasn't busy with her own opponents she would have sat and just watched. And taken notes.

Despite all the killing, there were still fifty guards left, all the guards had for some reason been in the throne room and the connected hall it seemed. By the time Aelin was done, the walls would be painted red. And she hadn't even touched her flame yet. Cauldron knows what hell she would create when she did.

Feyre, on the other hand was not as comfortable with murder as she had thought. It just felt too similar to killing the innocents under the mountain- yes, she had killed since then, when protecting the people she loved. And yes, she was always willing to kill to protect them. But- these were just men, who, though were attacking her, were doing their jobs. None of them had ever been cruel to her- and even now they never attacked to kill. So she tried not to either, she shot for their legs, but it seemed every time they crumbled Aelin was their to decapitate them.

Then through the clash of swords, the groans, the thuds, the cursing, an unfamiliar male's voice with the intensity of a whirlwind growled from the end of the hallway, _"Shit."_

The room exploded in blue fire, Feyre could now say she had experienced hell.

o-0-o

 _"Fuck."_ Rhysand barked as flame erupted on the skyline, "Mor, come on. We have to winnow, now. Now!"

"That's fire? Why is it blue?" Mor replied, jumping to her feet and squinting her eyes.

Rhysand didn't reply, shit, shit, shit, he never should have let Feyre go alone. What was he thinking? He had just gotten her back and he let her walk into danger without him? He was a horrible mate. Shit. And Feyre hadn't pulled on the bond, either she was too injured to do so, or, Aelin had lost control of her magic and was now burning the whole house down, with Feyre inside.

Even though he didn't need to Rhys grabbed Mor's arm, winnowing them as close as possible to the house. Which was way too far away, apparently Tamlin had decided to strengthen his boundaries. He picked up Mor with no resistance and flew to the house in seconds, it had only been a bit away, but every passing moment was slow-motion hell.

The flame had retreated, but the doors, the walls, the steps, were left chard from where it had seeped through the cracks. Gods. That female must have lit the whole house on fire. Rhysand released Mor on the porch and rammed into the door with his shoulder, his magic instinctively reaching out to find and protect Feyre.

The room was a battlefield but what hit him first was the horrific stench of burnt- or burning flesh. If Rhysand wasn't entirely focused on spotting Feyre in the graveyard he would have gagged, it smelt.. it smelt sweet. Sickly, disgustingly sweet. His eyes finally landed on Feyre who held her bow limply at her side, staring at the blur of golden fire that was responsible for this destruction. She had every reason to stare, the woman was... horribly effective against the flood of guards. The seconds were counted by the the thud of corpses.

Rhysand snapped out of his professional analysis of Aelin's fighting and ran over to Feyre.

"What happened? Are you okay?" he gasped, rotating her body for signs of harm. Any guard who dared approach them fell to the floor, screaming and tearing at their hair and ears. They learned quickly not to come near his mate.

o-0-o

Tamlin had delivered Rowan to the flame wall with a bit of painful encouragement he had been more than willing to give. The sight of the dancing fire was enough to make warm tears form, he pushed past the Highlord, only having eyes for the burning divide between him and his mate. Just the beauty of the gliding strips of gold, red, and orange drowned all sounds of the battle in front of him. She was here. Aelin was minutes away from him. After the months and months of searching, he had found her. Rowan swore to himself that whatever happened next, even if she hated him, he would stay with her and protect her forever. Until his body decomposed into dirt. No matter how damaged she was physically and mentally he would drag her from the pain, just like before. And they would get back to the point they had been, and then at that point would he ask her to be his mate- not now, he didn't want to overwhelm her. Aelin had waited months and was willing to wait for longer to spare him pain, so he would do the same. He would wait centuries. They had thousands of years together to figure everything out. But he mustn't overwhelm her.

Rowan turned to grab Tamlin and push him into the flame, unprotected- _"Shit."_ he growled before a mass which Rowan likened to a bear slammed him into the ground, Tamlin's sword slipped from his hand and Rowan shot both hands up to grab the beast's neck before his head was bit off. He heaved, begging for the air to return to his lungs.

Behind all the chaos he felt a surge of aelin panic. He couldn't move to look back and see what happened but an ear splitting roar burst through the room. And Rowan felt the heat of the flame wall dangerously pulse. He clenched his teeth, he had to get to her quickly.

The animal steadied, becoming more that a blur of fur as it tensed and strained to sink its teeth into Rowan's face. Finally, he scented it and saw it's leaf green eyes, "Fuck." he ground out. Of course, Tamlin had some magic up his sleeve. The pressure of Tamlin's weight became too much and before his arms snapped Rowand grabbed his snout, holding it tightly as it thrashed. He pulled his knee to his chest then kicked outwards at the beast's gut. Tamlin was forced to the side and Rowan rolled backward before claws could grab him, hissing from the wounds on his back.

If Tamlin was going to use magic, Rowan would too. Tamlin rose to from the floor as a blade of ice was fired at him, he leapt to the right to avoid it but another flying spike was already there. It grazed his cheek, drawing blood and the beast roared.

o-0-o

The throne room shook when a deep roar rumbled like waves through the house, Rhysand looked at the passage to the hallway. The guards' corpses were stacked upon each other but many were still left. He glanced at Aelin- the assassin, she hadn't paused her slashing, the only sign she had heard the bone-rattling cry was her gritted teeth. She killed even faster, with even more reckless disregard for lives- hers and theirs.

"I think that's Tamlin with Rowan." Feyre said, gripping his shoulder, "I'm not sure but I think I heard his voice from there a minute ago, that was where the flame was from. Aelin heard it and she just... exploded."

"How are you not hurt?" Mor asked behind them, pausing her killing to survey the Highlady again.

Feyre shook her head, "I don't know, the flame just didn't touch me. But it was hot as hell."

Rhysand's eyes circled the room, it was true, it looked as if she had exploded. The whole room was blackened, the oil paintings he knew Feyre had adored were still burning where they hung. And the men, the stench still hung in the air. He looked at a body near his feet, it's face- it had been melted. Completely. Exposing the white skull beneath. Still more disgusting was where the jaw hung open, showing the blistered throat where the fire had shot down. Rowan hadn't lied, Alien was powerful. And dangerous.

o-0-o

Rowan backed up towards the welcoming heat of the flame. Tamlin's beast form towered a head above him, it was a mismatch of body parts from different animals Rowan didn't care to separate. What he would have to watch out for were the three inch claws the Highlord idly scraped against the wall as he approached. Rowan braced himself for the impact of his massive weight, then Tamlin charged.

Rowan already had a plan, people were always used to fighting others- they were never used to fighting themselves. Tamlin was too transfixed to notice the claws of ice growing on Rowan's hands as they hung, ready, by his side. The beast launched at him. Rowan took the hit curling to roll backwards. The collision left Rowan gasping, he gritted his teeth and plunged the claws into Tamlin's flesh. Tamlin flinched and snarled in pain, it was the distraction Rowan needed to flip him over his head- through the fire.

The beast shrieked when he disappeared through the wall. Rowan stood, flexing his blood covered hands. He casted a shell of air around him and walked through the flame. Unharmed.

A second wall of the of sound clashing weapons and smell of burnt bodies hit him. Rowan looked past Tamlin- around that corner was Aelin. He was so close. He took step forward and looked down at the Highlord. Actually Tamlin this time. The fur and horns were gone, he was up against the wall, clutching his gut where Rowan's claws had pierced. His face was already blistering from Aelin's barrier. Rowan stood and watched as the Highlord pulled his thumbless hand away, staring at the blood drenching it in shock. One hand drifted to his face, wailing as he felt the damaged skin.

Then all the noise stopped, there was no more clashing, or roaring of flame, even Tamlin's shaking stilled. Rowan looked to his left, the wall of fire was gone. It was complete silence. He couldn't tell if his heart had stopped or if it was pounding in his chest, but he knew he was going to implode.

Finally- a quiet voice came to him like ripples in a pond from the other room, "Rowan."

It was the voice that had haunted his dreams and corrupted his thoughts the moment he had heard it. He was going to wake up any second and it was all going to be a dream. Everything- he would wake still bound to Maeve, still broken and hurting from Lyria's murder.

It hadn't been more than a whisper, like she was afraid of the answer. The timidness in her voice ripped at him. Rowan was standing on a ledge and following her voice would be jumping from it. He had been searching for her for months and months, and now when she was so close- Rowan just wanted to hold on to the idea that she was okay and unharmed for a moment longer. Before he had to face how much he had failed her.

He swallowed, and finally looked to his right- down the corridor that would lead him to her. Rowan repeated the vows he had told himself before, he would not overwhelm her, he would face whatever happened next; it didn't matter if she was weak and broken because he would be strong enough for both of them. Rowan would hear that voice every day for the rest of his life and he would not let it go silent.

After the first footstep, all those thoughts were left behind, they were replaced by the overwhelming draw to her- his wife, his mate. Three steps more- then his magic got restless and reached out for her, it casted itself through the room. But Rowan didn't even feel what it discovered, because at that moment he rounded the corner.

His eyes found hers and the leash he kept on himself at all times snapped. A dome of impenetrable air snapped around them and outside Rowan swore he heard the rumble of thunder. Rowan ran- sprinted, hurdled every ounce of remaining energy to get to her before the world hurt her again.

Aelin dropped her weapons, and they rattled on the tile as the two mates collided. But Rowan was sure to be gentle, careful of any wounds. Aelin was not- she tore at the bare skin of his shoulder, his neck, just to get him closer to her.

"Fireheart" he breathed into her hair.

The marks she made drew blood that Rowan didn't care was being smeared in his white hair. He didn't care about anything- he wouldn't have cared if he had had a knife through his heart.

Rowan just held his head to her neck, breathing in her scent. He couldn't differentiate between the heat of her skin and the heat of his tears. Aelin pressed her lips and teeth to him and nipped at his jaw. He shook, gripping her tighter- it was only when Aelin had been torn from his side he had realized how much he relied on her. Rowan could not breathe, or move, or think without her anymore. And now for the first time in months, he could. He could breathe.

He just wanted to stay like this forever, her safe and them together. Rowan pressed a kiss to her throat as he sunk to his knees, dragging her down with him, pulling her closer to his chest.

And then the blissful moment was gone- the moment when it hadn't been their bodies reuniting, but their souls and magic clashing and intertwining at last. And his nerves finally started firing again- and his brain and hands finally recognized the sharp bones pressing into his body, the ridges of all the pain he hadn't been there to protect her from. Rowan pulled back, his hands framing her face, her eyes were dulled with layers of pain and pain, her cheeks were hollow- and marred with twin vicious lines. He sobbed- despite this still smiling that stunning grin at him through her tears. She covered his hands with hers, and her smile faded when she noticed his injured wrist, she pulled the hand from her face, frowning down at the puncture wounds.

Rowan could do nothing but watch in awe as she cradled his hand in hers, "What happened? Are you okay?"

Rowan sunk further to the floor and he became lost in the surrealism of her presence, how unusually careful she ways being with his hand, that finally the scent he lived for surrounded him. Just that his mate was here, in front him, holding him.

"Rowan?" she asked raising an eyebrow, "Say something you buzzard."

He didn't know whether to laugh or continue weeping, he had been afraid for so long that she would never mock him again.

"I love you, Aelin."

 **So... It's done. (The chapter not the story don't freak) I was questioning cutting this chapter off right before the reunion. But then the tension would be loss. I don't feel great about this chapter- fight scenes are hard for me to write. And I'm worried I didn't make the reunion emotional enough. You tell me, thanks for reading!**


	23. Sleep

The tears rolling down Rowan's cheeks knocked the world from beneath Aelin- her mate, her stunning, perfect mate.

There were paragraphs and paragraphs of words in Rowan's beautiful pine green eyes, but Aelin didn't want to read them. Too many things she didn't want to face right now: what had happened during her captivity, Erawan, Terrasen.

Still, she wrapped her arms around the strong column of his neck and pulled his face down to meet hers, "How is the court? Are Lysandra and Aedion fine?"

Rowan drew a breath, pressing his lips to her cheekbone, before whispering, "They're fine." and wrapping her tighter in his arms.

"What about Elide? And have you heard from Fenrys? Or Chaol? Is Dorian okay?"

Aelin could feel Rowan shake his head where his face was pressed to her shoulder, "Everything is all right, Fireheart."

He pulled away to brush a strand of golden hair from her face- she sobbed, looking him over from where they sat on the blood coated floor of the throne room. Aelin's magic boiled in her gut at the sight a fresh, jagged wound in his side. She clutched Rowan's shoulders and in a pathetically small voice asked, "And you?" her eyes roamed his sculpted figure again, "Are you okay?"

 _They had whipped him._

"Of course I'm okay- I found you." he murmured.

Now her mind was able to grasp that Rowan was here, that he was not on the verge of death like Aelin had feared, her magic branched out- only to find them surrounded by a dome of unforgiving air. Though Rowan said nothing, she knew that as his hands traveled from her face, to her arms, to her back and thighs he was scouring for every wound that was newly branded on her flesh. And Aelin knew he had served Maeve and endured the battlefields long enough to know what he found and saw meant.

Finally, Rowan tore his gaze from her, surveying the graveyard surrounding them, _It's good to see your usual brutality is still intact._

She hummed, _We'll make the judgments after we see what hell you've raised._

Rowan smiled at her- his eyes twinkling with new life- and rose from the ground, dragging her up with him by the waist.

Aelin pinched his side, "Put down the air barrier."

He glared at her, but she felt the barrier contract.

o-0-o

At last, Rowan acknowledged the Highlord standing with Mor and a female he could only assume was his mate. Rhysand smirked at him, his eyes flickering to Aelin- and he couldn't help but tug Aelin closer and bare his fangs at the male. Rhys only winked- Rowan's snarl that shook the room turned into a hiss when Aelin pinched his bare hip. He glanced down at her and- oh gods, just her presence made him want to hug her closely to him, kiss and bite her all over- and most of all, demolish the worlds and anything that ever could or had hurt her.

When Aelin had asked about the court- and the others- he had hesitated if he should tell her that he didn't know if they were safe- he had left to find her the day she had been taken away. But right now, seeing her so injured all that mattered was that she was happy and safe. Even if she would yell and scream at him for the lie later on for it.

For the hundredth time, he ran his eyes over her frame, every scar, burn, and cut on her body, soul, or mind he would be sure to repay. His stare landed on the pale puncture wounds in her neck, a familiar rage that had immersed him for the last days bubbled up. And he remembered with a growl- Tamlin.

"Tamlin is in the hallway. Probably curled up in the corner." Rowan said emotionlessly, _If you want to kill him he's all yours, if not- I'll finish the job._ He concluded looking into his queen's eyes.

Aelin raised an eyebrow at him and he let out a soft snarl, _I know what he did to you._

She pursed her lips and quickly looked away, Rowan flinched the shame that flickered across her features. He ducked down to kiss her beautiful golden hair, brushing his thumb against her thin arms in a pathetic attempt to comfort and reassure her.

Mor sighed from across the room, pushing a dead body aside with her foot, she marched into the hallway, followed by the brunette who had been beside Rhys.

"That's Feyre, the Highlady." Aelin clarified, grabbing his still shackled wrist gently and pulling him to the doorway. His other wrist was beginning to heal from his magic, the bleeding had finally stopped. They walked into the hallway, and sure enough that pathetic excuse for a male was whimpering in a corner, his skin drained from blood loss, still clutching his blistering face.

It was instinct to pull Aelin behind him, his magic hovering on high alert. Rowan's hand on her hip felt her tense. First, he thought it was because Tamlin- but then her arms wrapped around his waist, she pressed her head to his shoulder, and he could feel her shaking- in pain or in panic. Rowan frantically twisted to face her, collecting Aelin in his arms.

He searched her for injury- for pain, anything he could fix, "Fireheart, what's the problem? Are you hurt?"

Aelin's shaking had subdued but fresh tears coated her cheeks and fell onto his chest, "No, I'm fine." She held her forehead to his collarbone, shifting her body molded to his. Stooping down, Rowan fully supported her heartbreaking weight.

He wiped her tears away with his thumbs, "Then why are you crying?"

"They whipped you." She whimpered into his neck, "And if I had just stayed here they would never have gotten the chance."

Rowan almost laughed at the dark irony, he had been the one who wasn't there when she had most needed him- and it had resulted in her being more than whipped a few times. The marks on his back would heal, in the worse case, he would have to re-ink his tattoo.

"Aelin, I'm fine." he kissed her neck, "And none of this is your fault."

His mate nodded and Rowan turned to find the three Night Court resistants scowling down at Tamlin, who still seemed unaware of his surroundings- only focused on his melted face.

"Feyre?" Rhys asked, looking between the broken Highlord and his mate, "What do you want to do?"

Feyre growled, "He's not worth the time to kill, just leave him."

Mor looked towards Rhysand, and the Highlord nodded, "Let's go home."

The couple exited the hallway, and Mor followed after spitting on the huddled male.

Rowan pushed Aelin from his chest, but her grip was unbreakable, "Aelin, do you want him dead?"

She finally released him from her iron grip, her eyebrows furrowed and he knew she was debating it. His wife looked over his wounds, the fire flaring in her stunning eyes- then she looked behind her, towards the room where she had slaughtered the Highlord's guards.

"There's enough death, and only more to come. Let him live."

He was itching to kill that male for what he did, but if his queen wished that- he would comply.

Rowan began to guide her out of the hallway but she stopped him with a hand to his shoulder- he froze in his step. Aelin grabbed his still bound wrist, she covered it with her hand and he knew to make a layer of ice to protect him from her flame. The shackle glowed hot red before snapping off.

She pulled his hand out the hallway, to the main entrance- he could feel her magic intertwining with his, healing him faster.

o-0-o

Aelin and her mate emerged from the throne room, their arms still wrapped around each other. Feyre looked up at Rhysand, "They're cute together." she said.

Rhysand turned to her, his wicked grin let Feyre know he knew exactly what she was actually thinking. In minutes they would be back at the house, safe, their court finally together, and most importantly with a spacious bedroom and a door that locked. Even though she knew they had stacks upon stacks of politics to discuss, when Rhysand leaned down, pressing a savage kiss to her lips that had her toes curling in her boots- she knew what would come first. Rhys pulled away to address the crowd and her body whined at the loss of his heat.

"We should winnow to the house now. Feyre, take Aelin, I'll take Rowan." They all nodded and Feyre took hold of Aelin's hand, she saw Rowan tense when his mate stepped away from his arms and then they disappeared.

o-0-o

Aelin had come to expect the impact when they hit the ground, nevertheless, she still stumbled, this time it wasn't Feyre's hands that kept her on her feet- but two strong arms that smoothly wrapped around her. She regained herself and looked around the home. It was well worn but decorated nicely and clean, the two males with the wings were sitting in low back chairs along with the short black haired female who radiated compressed power. Rhysand and Feyre were already sharing sultry looks before he said, "Rowan you can... 'rest' in the second room, up the stairs on the left."

Rowan's chest rumbled against her back with a low growl, Aelin lightly elbowed him in the gut but was still grateful for his pissy-ness.

The Highlord ignored him and looked down at Feyre, "We will be going to the mountain house."

He scooped his mate up in his arms, and Feyre let out a yelp before a giggle as she pressed her lips to Rhysand's. He kicked open the door and that was that.

A silence hung in the air before Mor sighed, "I'm leaving," she looked around at her court, "I suggest you do the same."

Then she disappeared out the door as well. One winged male followed her immediately, it was only a second before the remaining female left.

The male, Aelin remembered to be Cassian, still sat in a chair, he nodded, "Have a pleasant ride."

Rowan's savage growl ripped through the room and Cassian darted from the house before he got his ass beat.

Rowan stayed baring his teeth at the door before he turn to Aelin

"What does m'lady desire?"

Aelin blushed and grinned at her husband, she took in a long breath of his scent- "How long has it been since you bathed?"

Rowan grunted and began to guide her up the stairs, "I get it."

Still content to tease him she replied, "Do you just stop taking baths when I'm not around?"

"I'll have you know I have taken a bath. But not since I've come here because there was never chance."

Aelin hummed, pressing a kiss to his scarred shoulder, "How did you get here?"

They found the room easily, it was spacious enough with a giant fluffy bed, a beautiful view of the breath taking night sky and the small town below it, Rowan promised Aelin that he would show the town to her before they left- to give her hope of what Terrasen could be. She liked the idea, then they found the bathroom.

Aelin sat on the bath's ledge while Rowan climbed into it. He washed, telling her of how he had gotten here and all that had happened after she had been taken. Though he didn't let it show, she knew that if it wasn't for the overwhelming joy of finally being reunited he would be yelling and shouting at her for what she had planned, the secrets she had kept. Aelin also knew it was an argument they would have soon, as soon as the bliss ran out.

She just stayed on the rim rubbing the shampoo into his silver hair, it had gotten longer since she had last seen him. Long enough to braid. By the time he noticed what she was doing she had already braided half his head. He snarled and ran his hand through it, ruining her hard work.

Rowan only asked her once about the Iron coffin and Maeve, of what she had endured- she saw the pain in his eyes everytime he saw her frail limbs or the scars, cuts, and burns. She didn't want to add to it yet by telling him the details of all the torment that was still concealed under her clothes or skin. Plus, Aelin wasn't sure she could face it either, so she swore to Rowan she would tell him later and he let it drop.

Thirty minutes later she was wrapped in blankets in front of a roaring fire, her perfect mate beside her whispering the sweet words of the old language in her ear until she finally fell into a dreamless sleep of pine and snow.

 **SO the release of ACOWAR kinda crept up on me, there will be one more chapter. Expect it to be hastily put together- but then who cares because ACOWAAAAARR WHO-HOO! Hoped you enjoyed and thank you so so much for all the support, your comments have been wonderful! If you have any ideas for a new fanfic please tell me because I have absolutely none! G'day my fair folk!**


	24. Home

It had been the middle of the night- or early morning, Aelin was curled on Rowan's chest. Her breathing steady. Then he had felt her shake and violently lurch in his arms, her sharp nails tearing at his skin. Rowan had tried to wake her before the flame had exploded from her throat and fingertips. The fae male in him had panicked and he only could feel- or think of Aelin. He had forgotten of the room that was being blackened or the world that was at threat of being destroyed. Then his mate's eyes had snapped open- her flame retreating into her flesh.

For less than a second had Aelin been in the thrall of her flames, yet her flame had lashed across the room- searing everything in its way. Including himself, Rowan had realised when Aelin pulled away from him, shaking in horror at the burns she had caused. She had cried and cried, just repeating she was sorry over and over again. The burns had been minor- even with his mind completely absent, his magic had prevented the fire from getting far- they healed by morning. But once Aelin's tears had started, they hadn't stopped. She had stopped weeping about hurting her mate and started weeping about all the pain she had been through. Aelin had told him as much as she could through her tears- of the whippings, how Cairn had slowly removed each bone in her body and reassembled her, and of the illusions Maeve had woven from her darkness and forced her to live through. There was still more to tell, but their voices had become hoarse and they had both ran out of tears. Rowan had padded to the closet for new blankets, that he wrapped her in after giving his shirt for her to wear. Aelin had fallen asleep cradled in his arms. He had stayed awake, memorizing the lines of her face and the rhythm of her breathing.

Now Rowan and his wife were down in the kitchen with the Night Court. Aelin was sitting with her legs crossed on a cushioned chair at the food filled table.

He was on her right, while she was talking to Feyre to her left, "I may have seared the room we were in." Feyre raised her eyebrows, "I did sear the room we were in." she corrected herself.

Cassian snickered from across the room, "Damn, that's kinky." Rowan's hand clenched around Aelin's fingers and a warning growl shook the plates, Cassian only grinned wider, "Is that why you look so tired, Aelin?"

Rowan snarled and shot from his chair, fortunately for Cassian Aelin's hand quickly grabbed his shoulder and tugged him down to his seat, "Don't be such a territorial Fae bastard."

His soft snarl was covered by Mor's chuckle.

"Territorial Fae bastard?" Feyre repeated, as if she was trying the words on her tongue, "That's nice, mind if I use that?"

Aelin shrugged, her hand leaving Rowan's, "Sure, if you want." she grimaced, "...But the room?"

Feyre waved her off, "It's fine, don't worry about it."

Mor slid into the chair opposite her Highlady, "How exactly did you get here? If we're supposed to help you get to your world we need to know." she asked Aelin

"Do you have to get back immediately?" Feyre said, looking hopeful that they would stay.

His queen hesitated, Rowan knew Aelin wasn't ready to slip back into the role of Queen yet. She was still holding on and hiding so many things. It was better she have a breakdown here and now- where no one relied on her than in Terrasen, where she had to be strong for her court. But if she wanted to return to Erilea, he would help her get through whatever happened when everything came out. Even if they were in the middle of war, he would be strong enough for them both. And if Aelin needed more time away from being queen he would give her the time- by being her king.

"Yeah, I need to go home." Aelin answered after her pause, Rowan reached out and squeezed her hand, she squeezed back.

Leaning back in his chair with one arm around Feyre, Rhysand prompted, "So how did you come upon our world?"

Aelin sighed and told the story, it was short enough- she was in an iron coffin and her- being his horribly amazing mate, had memorized the wyrdmarks and spell for a portal. She drew the marks in the blood from her many open wounds, the location had been purely random- a wyrdmark she had half remembered.

"What are wyrdmarks?" Azriel asked solemnly from his shadows, it was Amren who answered, "They're magical runes that allow you to cast spells and stuff. Typically used for evil, yet technically neutral." she explained, picking dirt from her clipped nails.

The room was silent before the Highlord leaned forward, asking, "Amren, how do you know that."

"Are you really surprised? I know a lot of things Rhysand." she taunted, looking up from her nails.

Rhys sighed.

She shrugged, resuming her work, "I don't know, I read it in some book."

"Can you find that book?" Rowan questioned.

The small female, radiating that strange power grinned at him, "Yes, for a price."

Aelin's eyes narrowed, "What's your price?"

Something in Rowan's gut squirmed at the response that immediately came to mind: _Nameless is my price._ He glanced at Aelin, she remained normal- her lips drawn in a tight line, her eyes focused ahead on Amren. The sacrifice the gods had asked for, the thing that catapulted all her terrible, terrible plans had not come to her mind. She hadn't mentioned the price yet. And Rowan had just assumed she had come to her senses and realized that nobody was going to let her get herself killed. But the more he looked at her the more he realized it was a fool's hope, he would address it later, he decided, looking away, when he had Aedion to back him up.

"Just some lamb blood." she clarified, looking as if it was the most normal request in the world.

Aelin gave her a quizzical look but said, "Okay, we can do that."

"Good. When you have it bring it to my house and I'll give you the books." Amren stood from her seat, "Feyre can tell you where it is." Then she exited the house.

Aelin shifted her gaze to the rest of the court, "Is there a certain place one can get lamb's blood?"

"You can probably find something in town." Mor replied, reaching for a slice of bread.

o-0-o

Though Aelin was determined to get back to her world, to Erilea, to finally see Aedion, Lysandra, Dorian- just everyone- she couldn't help but wish she could spend more time here. The town was beautiful. Near perfect. Her whole life she had lived in flawed cities, giant mansions where owners wiped their asses with gold leaf and slums where you were lucky if you had food to shit out were separated by a single street. Here everything was prosperous and well taken care of, there was no crime, she didn't see guards roaming the streets with swords drawn, or hooded drug lords strutting down alleyways flanked by their bodyguards.

"How do you like it?" Rowan asked, pulling her back to him by the hand.

"I love it." she smiled at him, "One day Terrasen is going to be like this."

He leaned down and kissed her brow, "Yes it will be- better even." he murmured against her skin.

Her husband dragged her down a cobbled street, gesturing to the brightly colored shops "This street is dedicated to Art," he grinned at her, "we can have that too, yet ours will also have a giant theatre for orchestras and plays. Where you grace our people with your excellent pianoforte."

She smiled at his back, it was cute to see him so excited for Terrasen's future. Completely content, she breathed in the scent of fresh air, gasping tugging Rowan backwards, when a certain familiar scent graced her nose.

"What is it Aelin?" Rowan said, his body automatically tensing in anticipation of a threat.

She sniffed, her eyes wide with childlike hope, "Is that chocolate?"

He casually smelled the air, the tension leaving his body, "Yes."

Aelin squealed, grabbing Rowan's cloak "Let's go."

"We don't have any money Fireheart." he laughed, resisting her pull.

She winked at him, forcing him forward "That's never stopped me before."

They followed their noses to the chocolate shop. It was a small building squished in between two crowded restaurants. To Aelin - it was magical, the scent of chocolate wafted into the open street and Aelin wasted no time dragging Rowan by the collar into the store after her.

"So this is the plan," Aelin whispered in Rowan's ear while browsing the chocolates in the store. Aelin glanced back at the shopkeeper. She was a fae female, her skin a dark brown with a head of wild curls- she was following them with her eyes, well more specifically, she was following Rowan with her eyes.

Aelin smirked, "You go over and flirt with her. I'll grab a box and leave, after a few minutes follow me out."

Rowan raised his eyebrows, _I'm a married man, in fact, I'm your husband and you want me flirt with another woman?_

Aelin rolled her eyes, _Just this one time._ She narrowed her eyes at him, _If you ever do it without my instruction I will burn your eyebrows off._

Her king smirked, as if to say, _you could try_ , but instead whispered, "I don't flirt so you're out of luck."

He left her no choice- she sighed and the flame of a candle near the girl roared to life. The female jumped and that was all the distraction Aelin needed. Lighting fast she reached behind her and grabbed a box, then stuffed it in her jacket.

The shopkeeper regained herself and a moment later, after a quick goodbye, Aelin was outside with her chocolates at last.

"I can't believe you Aelin." Rowan said jogging to catch up with her.

"What can I say," she popped a chocolate into her mouth, "I'm a heathen."

Rowan used the day showed Aelin the rest of the town, pointing out all the things he liked and that they should strive for in Terrasen while she ate her chocolates. It was so sweet to see him like this, half the time she ended up hugging him out of pure joy. She was in a beautiful town, with wonderfully smooth chocolate, and her stunning mate. But when the sun was high in the sky Rowan turned to her and said they had to find the lamb's blood. Finding it was simple enough, they just found a restaurant that served lamb and asked for some blood. Apparently, it was common for Amren to request lamb blood and the cook at no problem sparing any.

o-0-o

There was a knock at the door and Amren sighed as she slid from her lavish cushioned chair. She pulled open the door, revealing the unmated couple. Aelin and Rowan.

The female held out a wine bottle, and when Amren sniffed the air she knew what it held, "Oh yes, I'll take that" she said with an excited grin.

She grabbed the bottle from Aelin. Pulled off the cork with her mouth and spit it across the room. Taking a long drink she disappeared into her darkly lit home, emerging with a stack of books. Amren gave them the books and they left, not a word was spoken, she appreciated that. No bullshit. It was nice for a change.

o-0-o

After hours of pouring over the books, Aelin had finished her chocolate and was still no closer to a wyrdmark that would bring her back to her home. All the information was all rudimentary, the only marks ever shown were far too basic: summon fire, summon barrier, the creation of portal was only mentioned once.

"There's absolutely nothing!" Aelin shouted, partially at Rowan, partially at the books, but mostly at herself.

Rowan sighed from where he sat on the bed and Aelin rotated in her chair to face him. His silver hair was glowing from the moonlight that streamed through the window. They didn't even need candles to read, the stars sprinkled their light across the whole room. Aelin looked out the window at the small, perfect town, even in the night it was busy and full of life.

Shutting his book, Rowan shook his head, "This one only mentions wyrdmarks once."

He looked up and saw the frustration lining her face, "We'll find a way." he reassured her, standing to set the books down on the desk.

She grunted, "Have we looked through all the books?"

He nodded. Aelin slumped in her chair flailing her limbs hopelessly.

"I saw a library when we were walking. Maybe they'll have something there."

She jolted up with feigned horror, "You saw a library and you didn't tell me?"

Rowan rolled his eyes, "We're only going to be here for a little bit, you wouldn't be able to finish a book."

"Don't underestimate me," she warned, pulling on a pair of boots, "I could've taken it with me if I didn't finish anyway."

Rowan stood guiding her out the door with a hand to her back, "I think you've done enough thievery for today."

o-0-o

The Library was a massive building on the outskirts of the town, luckily for them, it wasn't closed during the night. In fact, nothing here seemed to be closed during the night, if anything there were more fae in the streets and more open shops. And why wouldn't there be? The Night Court was beautiful during the day- it was breathtaking during the night.

While roaming the alleyways created by stacks and stacks of books Aelin inhaled the scent of pages like a drug, the further she walked into the library the more chaotic the organization became. The magic section was the worst, centuries of dust covered leather bound books. But scouring the shelves she found nothing on wyrdmarks, or portals, or other worlds. Aelin didn't give up, even if she found nothing, Rowan was looking as well. The passageway still stretched into the dark so Aelin still followed. After compulsive coughing from the dust of her fruitless venture, she reached a wall. A dead end, with nothing to show for it. The wall was just a wall with a window looking out into the landscape of the Night Court. It showed a range of snow capped mountains whose peaks were shrouded in light mist, the mountains' roots were peppered with pine trees that couldn't help remind Aelin of Terrasen. The scene might as well been a painting, it was awe-inspiring. She hoped someone had painted it- so when this world's fae and humans eventually destroyed these mountains their children could see what beauty was, what they had lost.

A glow cut through the forest, and figure appeared. The proud, majestic silhouette of a stag was casted in the trees. Not just any stag. A sun stag- the stag of Terrasen. Brannon, Aelin realized.

Aelin's eyes widened, her head jolting to look behind her. The passage out was too long, she wouldn't reach him in time. Yet glass- glass was breakable. Before thinking of the consequences, gritting her teeth she stomped on the glass- the thud vibrating across the room. She kicked again in the same place, the result was the same aggravating thud. Looking around she rummaged through books, finding one clad in leather with steel tips on the cover, it was giant and heavy. With the strength the adrenaline in her blood provided her she threw it at the window. Aelin heard the satisfying shatter of glass before leaping out the window, hurling herself at the dimming light of Brannon, of Mala.

Despite weeks of recovery, of Aelin eating well and walking across the land- her muscles were pathetically weak, her energy pathetically low. She jumped over bushes and stones, her legs would give and her hands and knees began to bleed from falling and getting up, over and over again. Aelin ignored the burning in her lungs every time she drew in a breath. But all her endurance was useless, Halfway across the plain, the light blinked out, at first, Aelin lost hope. But the stag would always disappear, that didn't mean it meant nothing. Maybe she just thought after all the shit she had been through they would grace her with their presence. Groaning, Aelin pushed herself up from the cool, damp, grass and continued to the forest.

When the Aelin reached the pine trees she knew where the sun stag had been, because in all her running she had not taken her eyes from the spot. Nothing was out of place in the forest- if there was wildlife here they were being completely silent. The floor was spongy from layers of moss and pine needles. Aelin took a step deeper into the trees, she pushed away a thicket of branches to reveal a clearing. In the center of forest floor glistening grey rocks were arranged in Brannon's mark, the mark of the Bastard Born. She swallowed, and in the center of those stones was a Nameless leather bound book.

o-0-o

Rowan's heart was pounding, he had found nothing in that old, moldy, library. When he had looked for Aelin, he found nothing either. Her scent was easy to notice and he had followed the path through the shelves she had taken, yet when Rowan reached the end of the labyrinth there was no Aelin. Only a floor coated in broken glass and a shattered window opening the library to the Night Court's air. His mind immediately jumped to the worse- that she had been taken from him again. That somehow Maeve had captured her. He shifted, flying into the cool night. Luckily, there was no wind and Aelin's track was burned into the scenery by her scent.

When Rowan found her, she was kneeling in a forest clearing, surrounded by stones. He shifted from his hawk form- forgetting to pull up, he crashed into the floor beside his mate.

"Aelin, what the hell were you thinking?" he half shouted at her, "Hellas knows what horrible creatures are here."

She didn't reply. She didn't even react to his presence.

"Aelin?" He asked, grabbing her shoulder.

She was huddled over something, just staring at it, "I'm fine Rowan." she murmured.

Rowan growled at the dismissal in her voice, "You can't just run off like that. I thought- I thought you had been taken again." he twisted Aelin, forcing her to face him.

Something flickered in her eyes but she ignored what he had said, "I saw a sun stag."

His eyebrows knitted together and he looked around the forest, finally recognizing the formation the stones were in, "Brannon's Mark." he breathed, looking down at what Aelin had been focused on, a plain closed book rested on the forest floor, "What is that?"

Aelin shrugged, like this whole situation was common, "I don't know, the stag left it. I haven't looked."

"Why not?" he asked, his heart rate finally slowing.

"I don't want to." she said simply.

Rowan looked at her, there were so many words in her eyes but he just replied, "Do you want me to?"

Only her head moved when she nodded. Rowan reached for the book, taking it in his hands he opened the cover- a burst of wind that was not his rushed through the trees, flipping the pages to where a leaf was held. He looked closer at the page, there was a single symbol, a rune- a wyrdmark, with tiny scribe surrounding it.

"I think Mala wants us to return home."

Aelin looked up, some of her fear finally gone, and moved to peer over his shoulder.

o-0-o

When they got to the townhouse Aelin was a little surprised to see the Night Court- well, all except Amren- in the kitchen. She had assumed they all had their own houses or a castle they lived in and that this was more of a guest house.

"Did you find anything?" Rhysand asked, glancing back at them.

"We think so, is there a place you wouldn't mind blood being smeared?"

Feyre raised her eyebrows at Aelin, "Yes. Outside."

"We'll take our leave then." Aelin said, grabbing a knife from the counter. And steering Rowan from the room. Seconds later they heard footsteps follow them.

When they were out in the open air Aelin found a smooth stone surface on the street, Feyre hovered with Rhysand beside them while the others stayed back. Aelin raised the kitchen knife above her palm but before she could slice Rowan snarled and ripped the blade from her hand- quickly swiping it against the back of his arm.

She sighed, "Buzzard."

Aelin flipped open the book in her hand, grabbing Rowan's arm to get some blood on her fingers, "Do you know the outside circle of wyrdmarks?"

Rowan nodded.

After minutes of the Night Court watching them create the rune on the ground it was finished, Aelin grabbed Rowan's arm. Her stronger water magic in this world allowed her to heal the cut quickly.

Aelin grabbed Brannon's book from where she had set it on the floor to copy from and moved to the edge of the collection of wyrdmarks- just like before, a circle of relatively simple wyrdmarks that created the base for the portal surrounded a large and far more intricate wyrdmark, determining the location- that she had copied from the book. Now all was left was to read the spell that was written in circles on the page. Aelin handed the book to Rowan- she wasn't sure but it would make sense the blood and the voice that read must be from the same person.

Rowan began to read, rotating the book in his hands. At first, nothing happened and Aelin felt hopelessness rise in her gut yet she pushed it down. She knew from before it would take reading the spell several times to create the portal. After a minute of reading something began to happen, very faintly the marks began to glow- not purple like before- but a deep green. Soon every line Rowan spoke the light would go brighter. Then every word the glow would grow stronger until a ball of ombre green light formed, floating a meter above the runes. Aelin watched, hope coursing through her veins, as a concave of swirling, lashing, green light extended into the dark air. Each breath she took the mouth of the tornado grew, it only revealed black nothingness until Rowan said the last word of the last line and a flash of light coated this gods blessed and gods cursed world- triggering the opening to another.

For once the gods had decided to bless her.

Before the light cleared and Aelin was able to see, she scented, she scented the ocean and- tears began to fall, she smelled Lysandra's ever changing scent that at its core would always stay the same- always stay loyal, she smelled Aedion's fire tipped scent screaming family at her- that no matter what happened what she or he said, there would always be a place for her beside him. And then she heard, she heard Aedion's voice snarl, "Will you please fucking shift, do you know how painful it is when you're in her body?" Then the light left this world and exploded into theirs- her's, making itself known. That same voice- Aedion's voice- cried, "What the fuck?" And Aelin saw his silhouette in the green blast and that was it- she couldn't wait any longer- she just hurled herself at him. And like always, he was there to catch her.

"Aelin?" he whispered into her neck tugging her closer, like he was scared this was all a dream.

"Aedion." she answered, she felt his sob rumble through her and his tears mix with hers.

He gasped for breath, "You are so-" he inhaled her scent, "fucking lucky I love you and missed you so much," he sobbed again, "because otherwise, I would be kicking your ass for what you did."

Aelin grinned against his cheek, "I missed you too, cuz."

He half sobbed- half laughed into her hair. She kissed him on the cheek and tore away, throwing herself into the awaiting arms of Lysandra, who had shifted back to her normal self.

"Thank gods Rowan found you." she said, embracing her tightly.

"Please," she replied, squeezing her, "I was the one who found him."

Lysandra pulled back- only slightly, "It doesn't matter- as long as you're here and safe."

Aelin's tears started again when she said, "I'm sorry I made you do take my place."

Lys smiled sadly, hugging her once more, "Don't be sorry, I am here to serve you, my queen."

And then Aelin realized the portal behind her was still opened, Rowan still hadn't stepped through- now frozen mid handshake with Rhysand.

It was Feyre who spoke, "You're a queen?" she asked, her eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar.

A grin spread on Aelin's lips, and Rowan nodded goodbye to the Night Court, stepping through the portal.

Before the gate between worlds winked out of existence Aelin said, "Thank you for your help- I don't know how this would work- but if you are ever in need of aid, call on Queen Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius of Terrasen. And I and my court will be there." She bowed her head in respect and the doorway between their word and her's closed.

 **SO THANK YOU ALL SO SO SO SO SO MUCH FOR THE JUST AMAZING AMAZING RESPONSE TO THIS STORY, THERE HAS NOT BEEN ONE RUDE PERSON- ALL OF YOU HAVE BEEN EXTREMELY ENCOURAGING AND YOUR COMMENTS AND SUGGESTIONS HAVE HELPED ME SO SO SO MUCH.**

 **I love you guys :')**

 **This is the last chapter. I hoped you enjoyed it. I really really do hope you do. Tomorrow ACOWAR is coming! I hope I didn't post this too late (I'm kinda relying on time difference.) I wish you all a wonderful day, a wonderful week, month, year. I'll probably focus on my neglected Hogwarts AU and One Shots (so if you want to read more of my stuff check it out), those are all ToG centered so I'm sorry to all your ACOMAF fans.**

 **It's just so unbelievable that this got so much attention and thank you so much. I'm really sad to see it go.**


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